#there’s just something about them that’s deeply unnerving

[brain-squid]

It’s also important to remember Goya lived through a very traumatic time in Spanish history, and was witness to so many atrocities, which very likely contributed to his disturbing work and to his deteriorating mental state. You can see such a stark comparison between his early and latter work.

so was no one was gonna tell me that the painting saturn devouring his son was found painted directly onto the walls of the artist’s home after he died and that it may not even be depicting the greek legend, that’s just the most common interpretation??????

[fumifooms]

Falin who cares too much and too little - analysis

Been stewing on Falin thoughts for a while, I know I have an interpetation on her that differs from many but I’m jumping into the fray. I think there’s a lot to be said about what we do see of Falin. This shorter Falin analysis I made is heavily encouraged prior reading. This analysis mainly explores her complex relationship with caring and so it’s sort of structured in two halves, with Faligon at the crux of it all.

Falin cares too little :

A lot of people assign Falin a people pleasing mindset and I… Don’t agree. We never see her care at all about people in her town or at the academy not liking her.

We do see her worrying about what people think of her… ONCE. And Laios comforted her, told her they didn’t matter and she should be proud of herself. She latched onto that hard. That’s why this scene was so important to be included during the dragon fight, relationship-defining; it’s always been them against the world. She grew to not care what others thought, to only focus on her close loved ones. No one else matters.

Laios’ words were her world. Her older brother who taught her how to feel comfortable with herself, who told her, you’re great, others are the ones in the wrong to not see that, I’ll always be with you, always be there for you. Older brother who always made great plans, who always knew more, who was better at wrestling to name the dogs, who she has always idolized. Laios who always spoke of traveling the world, to which she always said she wanted to follow. And she would, she’d follow him even if it meant leaving the academy and all she knew behind, she’d follow him to the ends of the world, and that’s what she did.

She didn’t care about showing to her classes or keeping up such appearances, she doesn’t even think of toning down her jumping into bushes when Marcille recoils, etc. She acts like an obedient pawn often, to her parent’s directives and then following Laios around no matter what he decides to do, but I don’t think the motivation is people pleasing, rather it’s being with & caring for her loved ones, and her go-with-the-flow attitude enhances the impression. Not that it’s as simple as that, mind you, but let’s talk about this for now.

Falin is perceived as selfless because we, the audience, have our perspectives revolving around the main people in her life (Laios, Marcille). They’re the ones she’s devoted to and people who care about her back a lot too, but to people like her classmates or the towspeople she probably must have seemed like someone who didn’t care about the people around her or her surroundings a lot, who just went on alone and did her own thing.

What matters to Falin? From what place does her kindness come from? Is a part of her keeping up appearances? And I think that’s the point, the horror of Faligon as well, that we can’t tell just how in control Falin the person is as the chimera (because we are shown that she’s in there, we just don’t know at what degree), that we don’t know her enough to be able to tell when she’s at her most genuine, her most raw. That even if you do settle on none of her being present as Faligon, we have to at least consider it, consider that she may be able to do something like this and have a part in it, brutal and uncaring. That even the lenses we see her through, the people who love her, may be unreliable.

And this is what’s very interesting about her too, she truly is so idealized by people around her as a saint. She’s so good and kind and caring to everyone etc etc etc. Laios, Toshiro and Marcille all see her as the paragon of goodness in the world. More cynical characters like Namari and Chilchuck have more layered opinions on her, the latter finding her somewhat unnerving because he can’t read her well. But then with that one flashback scene we see that… Her priorities are intensely focused on Laios and Marcille, she doesn’t care all that deeply about anyone other than them (+ maybe her parents). The rest of the party is in the same danger here but only Laios and Marcille who she’s speaking to get the special ,ention, and if they don’t cross her mind then of course she’d be ready to sacrifice strangers through a risky teleportation. That doesn’t make her not kind or caring!! Just that greater good isn’t exactly her priority. Any means is alright if the end result is her loved ones safe, it usually takes the form of healing and caring, but we see she’s ready to fight and make dangerous calls too. To me there’s this aspect to her that she isn’t as pure and magnanimous as everyone thinks she is, both in-world and interestingly enough meta wise as well, and there’s something interesting to that.

People pleasing implies a need to be liked, needs for the motivation to be that. A yes-man, etc. But if we analyze Falin, her general kind, smiling demeanor is more a matter of passivity I yhonk. Conflict avoidance is easier, so she’s friendly and hopefully things’ll be smooth sailing. It’s easy to be kind to classmates even if they act wary and rude if you don’t care about what they think either way. Of course she prefers good things happening to people over bad things, she is genuinely kind, but I think people tend to assign her a very grand altruistic way of life when to her the motivation is pretty self-centered. She doesn’t do what she does because she loves them, but because she loves them.

One situation that’s interesting to dig into for her way of thinking, and what I’m trying to get at, is Shuro’s proposal to her. I’ve seen people saying she hesitated because she didn’t feel comfortable saying no even though she wanted to, "I can’t say no, I don’t want to hurt him", something that sounds sensible and familiar, but it’s actually canon in the Adventurer’s Bible that the reverse was the case, that she didn’t feel comfortable saying yes. Because the offer was tempting, but it’d have been a loveless agreement on her end. And it makes sense she’d want to say yes too, like we see with the Toudens, marriage is very much a political strategical economical thing in their village, there’s even a bit on it on Laios’ Adventurer’s Bible profile about dowries, and both siblings were engaged very early. They lived poorly for a long time, it’s an enticing idea to marry rich, to have not only yours but your brother’s needs met forevermore easily, which at one point in their careers was their main worry and goal. Why shouldn’t she accept a life of leisure and wealth handed to her by a lovely friend?

So her hesitance was "yeah that’s convenient for me, but where it’s everything to him and heartfelt I’m able to be detached because I don’t care about it that much… Can I do that? I’m not reciprocating, not saying yes in the way that matters. Can I do that to him?" Very caring even though it’s not what you’d expect, isn’t it?

And central to my analysis, where I’m going with this is, I feel like that’s the thing with her character, that she doesn’t feel as strongly as she "should" sometimes, or feels a different way than she "should", or at least that she feels that way and others say she does. She didn’t mind suddenly leaving the academy, leaving Marcille behind and not seeing her for 4 years. She acted like it was no big deal that she sacrificed herself after getting resurrected after the red dragon fight. And in both those cases it upset the people around her greatly that she didn’t seem to get why it was such a big deal, didn’t seem to care about how they’d experienced her choices.

So it’s a tendency… And it’s not that she doesn’t care, it’s just that the way she measures what’s good for the ones she loves isn’t the same as what they themselves think it is (like Laios and Marcille not wanting to be apart from her). It’s an overt but quiet kind of care, it’s doing things like following them around and making sure they bathe and have a meal, even if that means she has to be dragged into misery too.

So yes she probably would know "not caring enough/the right way" is one of her perceived flaws, and that informs how she tries to handle her response to Shuro’s proposal. Her not wanting to accept like her first gut instinct, is because she’s thinking about reciprocity, about if it’d be right to go into this knowing that they have different priorities and she might not be able to keep up with the type and amount of emotions he wants/expects from her. And that’s a big part of her character isn’t it, having expectations pushed onto her. Her trying her best, but in her own way that may seem odd or even unfeeling. Not unlike when she exorcised the ghost as a kid too, unblinking and matter-of-factly, and not seeming to understand why people stared the way they did.

Even though she answered his proposal only post-canon, she’d been pondering it for a while even pre-canon and the Adventurer’s Bible explanation was released midstory, so I’m hesitant to assign her much growth about her hesitation and what I went on above, since she still didn’t react "right" with Laios after the red dragon fight (even if she apparently doesn’t remember sacrificing herself) and put herself in that situation in the first place. She hasn’t finished her arc on that flaw of hers is what I’m saying, she for sure still has it, but I certainly think her thoughts on Shuro’s proposal shows awareness, both of herself and social.

And awareness is a big analysis key word with Falin, especially here it can be hard not to conflate not caring with not knowing. How socially aware is she? It’s rather layered, because canonically she wasn’t aware of her ostracization in her hometown at all, and we’re not sure if she knew Shuro was interested in her before he proposed, but she generally seems more socially aware than Laios. She tags along on his caravan job to make sure he isn’t being mistreated (though doesn’t ask he get a salary), she catches social faux-pas more easily like in the genderbend magic mirror omake with Shuro, and interestingly enough she’s very good at empathizing with her parents and understanding their perspective. We see when she’s worried about Marcille coming that she does know about propriety and how appearances shape impressions. Being a chief’s daughter must at least have taught her a thing or two on that front.

She never stands up for herself, but when it comes to defending others she worries, strategizes and explains.

And this sort of understanding is part of why I think she’d notice the expectations pushed onto her like I was saying earlier, notice how she makes people feel when she’s careless. But if she changes anything about herself in response to noticing is for her to choose, and generally I think it’s a sort of inbetween of yes and no: that she becomes more complacent but also more reserved, complying but by hiding more of herself passively. She’s not sure wether to accept or reject Shuro’s proposal, doesn’t want to lead him on? She’ll just be taking a while to silently consider it, try to keep things as they are for the time being. The third, less conflicting option. She doesn’t feel heard by Marcille who keeps infantilizing her? Just bear with it. Retract yourself emotionally. Settle for it.

We see that when she was young she had a tendency to not read a room, and I think that’s here too. She doesn’t get why her nonchalance upset others but that doesn’t change that she doesn’t want them upset or hurt, so she tries, albeit in maybe a roundabout way. She always had a hard time deeply connecting with people, often keeping herself some amount of emotionally distant: erasing herself from the equation, from the two-way trade that relationships are and making it a onesided thing instead, where all their needs and emotions are directed towards her but she only lets out a bit of her own show. She takes everything upon her and deals with it and tries not to give others this same burden, though not on a conscious level, it’s just that she’s learned growing up that she doesn’t have much agency.

Like I went into with my analysis linked at the beginning, I think Falin is used to just taking what she can get and not asking for more, when it comes to social bonds. She’ll take spending time with her mother no matter what it is they do, she’ll follow Laios to the graveyards and stick by him even when he’s pushing her away (because he doesn’t want her borrowing his book or "No copying!" or such). Her father was always distant, cold and uncommunicative, her mother was considered sick from anxiety and the exorcism attempts were the main way they spent time together, at dinner tables there were only her and Laios. The dogs picked on her too even if she loved them— And so did the townspeople, maybe that being normal to her at home is why she didn’t notice the ostracization she suffered.

She’s always been the last to be asked about decisions or what she wants, never asked to play with at recess, neither her father or Laios asked before sending her to the academy or leaving the village. At home, in the hierarchy she was considered to be below the dogs by the dogs themselves, as someone they can disrespect. Dogs learn from example and behavior, so this means Falin must have been pushed around a lot, and that the family didn’t try hard to rectify the dogs’ misconception, likely worsened by Laios regularly wrestling with her as a competition.

So for example when Falin showed Marcille food, it was her way to implicitly ask to have lunch with her without voicing that question, without daring to take up space. Someone’s presence isn’t something you ask for, it’s something that’s bestowed upon you, you can follow them around but you can’t ask them to stay or to come with.

She’s used to her needs and wants not being listened to, so she’s learned to have less wants. Caring less about herself, caring less about other people beyond her safe zone, was a defense mechanism in part. She has a sense of learned helplessness too, like how when Marcille came to take her away from Laios, even though she didn’t want to leave with Marcille it felt so determined and unshakable to her that whatever Marcille decided Falin would have to comply with.

And still, it’s the "marrying you would be awfully convenient if it wasn’t that I’d feel guilty for not loving you back, the way you wanted me to when you proposed to me" and the "I don’t regret leaving the academy and leaving you behind without goodbyes but I’m sorry that you’re so much more upset about it than me". It’s the guilt of not loving people back the way they want to be, with the same intensity or fervor.

It’s the autism it’s the aroace of it all, it’s the emotional stunting and confusion but the pit in your stomach telling you you did something wrong again. The no object permanence even for people you love even for 4 years, it’s the feeling like you’re somehow at fault for someone having fallen for you and not knowing what to do with any of it. I’m not joking btw it isn’t uncommon for autistic people to not see their close friends for a long while, not having missed them all that much and for that to be really hurtful for the other if they notice/ask about it. "Hiii bestie! Oh umm you’re uh more emotional about this than I expected, hopefully you won’t feel alienated by me not feeling as intensely about it…"

So… Yeah. I think she thinks of things and relationships in a different way than most people, and beyond "good things happening to people is good" I don’t think she actually cares about people all that much. I’d argue that Laios shows more desire to connect with others and make relationships. And just like with Laios and his own issues with humans, that doesn’t mean her kindness is a lie or ungenuine or worthless! It just means that like, well it’s pretty straightforward really, she’s not all that social and doesn’t see casual bonds as meaning all that much and whatnot. She does want to see people happy, but it’s not as much like… A conviction or goal. She’s too laser focused on a select few people. "It’s not that they’re bad people, they just aren’t interested in humans."

And sometimes it feels like people get defensive about Falin in a meta way too, like if you ever so much as imply Marcille isn’t her whole world or that she isn’t the kindest soul out there then you’re saying she doesn’t care at all or she’s evil. And that’s actualy exactly the sort of vibe I wanted to get through with my analysis above here actually haha, that she does care and she is kind but it’s not in a way that’s quantified or understood in a way that makes people feel comfortable. In a way, that makes people feel insecure because they don’t have the same logic as her, don’t show love the same. And I think this is another stellar depiction of autism, of parts of it that feels unpalatable to many, if I’m making sense. The fandom idealizes her as well, which isn’t uncommon or surprising for the character embodying the trope of the perfect beloved to rescue.

And disclaimer, as I said in the tags I feel like the details of Falin are pretty vibe based when it comes to analysis, there’s absolutely a valid angle where she does super care about everyone always, feel free to disagree with me on the overarching angle of my analysis. There’s enough supporting evidence to tip the balance either way I think, and the reason I’ve chosen this angle is I feel it’s more compelling for the themes in Dunmeshi of idealization and being different, of desires vs wants, and because I think it neatly ties up Falin’s character arc as I’ll go over throughout the next section…

So.

Not feeling as much as she should. And……. Is this not Faligon pushed to the max?

You can’t tie down a dragon. As the chimera, she gets to just not care about everyone else and be on her merry way.

Part of it I think is finding comfort and freedom in the mindlessness, in not having the burden of feelings and connections and a consciousness (despite still ending up seeking those in a stranger, Thistle). Like when she’s dead in the purgatory as well, she gets to just… Hang around and do whatever. Similarly to when she played in the forest instead of going to class in her academy days. That’s what freedom and peace of mind looks like to her. Why she decides to roam post-canon, if only now with the goal to find herself instead, with her mind in tow and somewhere to go back home to.

There’s excellent analytic framing out there about how of course, Dungeon Meshi has a big theme of grief and letting go, and… Falin was always a symbol narratively, idealized by characters and often underconsidered by them despite their love. It was Falin’s choice to sacrifice herself for Laios, she thought it was worth it, knowing that it would be her end. Her resurrection and the process of it intertwining her soul with a dragon’s wasn’t done with her consent, and the subsequent opening it gave her to become a chimera puppet. She’s stripped of her agency consistently, and so… It’s very noteworthy that the final choice, of wether to go back to life or to stay dead, in that purgatory scene, was up to her. And she chooses life, but I do think about her in those fields and how at home she seemed there. Peaceful, by herself in a vast calm expanse she could explore, free.

Personally, I think freedom is Falin’s own subconscious selfish desire. And though to us becoming the chimera is obviously a shackle, I think it felt like freedom to her somewhat, too.

And if you think I’m going wildly off the rails here I want to talk about Laios’ wish of becoming a monster. And to be clear before getting into it, being mentally a monster is absolutely a big part of the appeal for Laios, it’s something that’s consistently referred to, something especially pointed out in the werewolf monster tidbit with Lycion. Right panel is from that, but left panel is from the extra with Izutsumi where Lycion talks about suppressing souls in a beastkin body, the human or the beast soul.

Finding comfort and freedom in being mindless, less sentient, less aware? While being unaware in her hometown might have saved Falin a lot of heartache although perhaps stunted her emotional growth, it’s always been Laios’ curse.

Actively, through his choices, he seeks to grow closer to people, to form deeper bonds, to understand and be undertood, but… On a deep seated level, what he desires is to leave humanity and civilization behind. He has an irrational hatred for humans, born from the trauma of ostracization, being different, being beaten up and rejected consistently through his life. Running away from problems is easier. He wants to be free from being a social animal from a social species who has deemed him the black sheep, he thinks it’d be simpler to just leave it all behind, people and his own humanity. At its core, to Laios becoming a monster is a power fantasy, a coping daydream of "if only I could be strong enough to never be hurt again, the power to destroy anything I want, the power to go somewhere better, if only it was possible for me to never feel hurt again. If only I could be someone, something, that can never be hurt". "If there’s someone you don’t like, you can gobble ‘em up in one bite. If you could fly, you’d be able to leave this village right now." It’s a childhood fantasy, from a deep sense of being misplaced and a desire to be able to stand fearless, thinly covering up resentment that Laios represses.

But you’ll notice, when the Winged Lion is enticing him in the last page, even now with his lifelong wish of becoming a monster on a silver plate, he still cares about his friends. He still has that sense of responsibility to his friends, doesn’t want to leave knowing they’ll be in danger and alone. The offer that his friends may be left unharmed is already good, but Laios also visibly flinches when the Winged Lion offers to specifically care after Marcille and rid her of her biggest fear. Laios’ care runs that deep. Not unlike with the succubus, he resists temptation until he gets reassured that everyone will be okay. But see, what he desires isn’t to stand alongside Marcille until her last days, it isn’t to stay and see how well his friends will live, it’s to go. It’s to leave. It’s to fly away, a monster both in body and mind. He wants to be free from caring here, wants to not have to worry about his friends, wants to just go do his own thing, but for that he needs to feel safe in the belief that said friends will be safe even without him being there to see it, because despite everything else he cares, he does. It’s again that dichotomy about caring and wishing you didn’t, or not caring and wishing you did.

In the end, it’s Falin who achieves that wish. Both by becoming a chimera during canon, and by going traveling post-canon. In the latter, being both free of human relationships as something chaining you while still being uplifted by them, by the knowledge that there are people out there you love and that love you. It’s a theme that can also be connected with Marcille, because she gets anxious over people she loves getting out of her sight, worrying they’ll get themselves killed, that time is passing while they’re away from her. But before she can get to the point where she can both have her freedom and being uplifted by her social bonds, regaining both her individuality and her connections, she has to get a taste of just one at a time. Before they can find balance in her life, she has to see what it’s like to have what she’s never had on its own. Unapologetic freedom, and power.

No one can blame you for not caring enough or caring right if you’re a fricking dragon!!!! You make the rules when you’re a beast and you can just… Fly away. From anywhere, from anything. And if a dog bites you you can just crush it. Instead of being pushed around by the dogs because you’re at the bottom of the hierarchy, you’re now at the top, the one with the power to be heard and do what you want without consequences.

I think she’s on autopilot. I think she’s on autopilot a lot of the time, even before being a chimera, and it’s partly why her will is so weak compared to regular dragons. (Again, read my shorter analysis.) It’s familiar to slip back into the role of following someone around unquestioningly. And that’s what is weaponized when she’s a chimera, that instinct she’s been nursing all her life to unconditionally support, defend and follow someone. Only now, that someone doesn’t matter in itself, only the symbol of it. She doesn’t mind, either way is fine. Her will is weak after all, because she’s trained it to take as little place as it could.

Falin cares too much

She spends all her time caring for Laios and Marcille alternating that none of her care and emotional energy is left for others, including herself. So she had to get relieved of all of that for a bit, becoming the chimera so she could reset and recenter and remember that she, too, indeed, is there and an important part of her own life.

So you’re probably seeing the duality I’m talking about here, Falin is very self-sacrificial but for specific people in ways that they often don’t recognize or appreciate. She cares but selectively, both in people, putting all her eggs in the same baskets, and in the ways she cares after them. She doesn’t care a lot, but when she does she cares a lot. Falin doesn't have a lot of earthly attachments, but when she does, they're her world.

In canon her arc, especially post-canon, is to grow beyond Marcille and Laios. Her caring for her close loved ones held her back from looking after her own self-fulfillment needs. And this is what I mean when I say she cares too much; she could gain from caring more about the world besides Laios and Marcille, both lands wise and people wise. She cares too little, but her arc centers her flaw around caring too much instead. Her pitfalls that Kui highlight over the course of the story, while of course her selflessness is appreciated for how she saved Laios and everyone, on a personal level is shown to be self-effacing and damaging. She’s undermined by Marcille, without the courage to voice her thoughts and wants, she would dedicate her whole life to Laios. And I mean, it’s text, in the response to Shuro’s proposal extra no less. And she’s so laser focused on her most loved people that she’s fine with being callous and risking others’ lives, even.

Post-canon, she needs to leave to find herself, away from them.

Herself. What if she wants to just be with herself for a while.

And this is me reaching but I feel like, not unlike Izutsumi who learns to feel this sense of never being alone, always having someone on your side what with having two souls, the dragon in her would make her consider herself more. She finds it easier to care after other people after all, and in the purgatory fields sequence she takes care to bring the bit of dragon left with her… Not unlike with Izutsumi, having two souls forces you to think about your identity and figure yourself out. Besides being this sort of duo now, where if she wants to care after herself she can channel it to that other side of her too… In meta dragons are symbols of greed, and I think the bit of dragon would push her to want more and listen more to her desires, primal and self-serving as they might be. The dragon soul which warped her human body with feathers and draconic features, her image of perfection marred, her weirdness externalized in a way that’s not palatable. But she doesn’t care, about if her appearance is palatable for most people, she hasn’t for a while now, and that’s great.

Notes & nuance

I’m struggling with the structure of this post, making my points organized, concise and strong at once. It’s difficult to make any statement without going "things are generally like this, but there’s this time that this contradicting thing happened too" or "it’s ambiguous enough that you should just follow my interpretation for the time of this analysis" haha, so this is the pit where I put all the stuff that wouldn’t fit well in other places but are interesting for Falin’s character. This section is pretty separate from the main thesis of the post, it’s just more Falin observations. The post has reached the 30 pics limit so I can’t just pull it up whenever it’s relevant but I really encourage scrolling up to read the stuff I highlighted in her Adventurer’s Bible profile if you haven’t already.

I think with the shy-looking loner type autistic kid archetype, and knowing she didn’t seem to mind others ostracizing her, it’s easy to lose sight of how she was by no means an unemotional child. In all the bits we see of her as a kid she’s bursting with energy and emotions. Canon confirms Laios leaving the village did affect her and make her lonely and she cried a lot, too. She may not be social in the traditional sense, but she was clingy with her brother, and she also never was all that shy about who she was, wearing her heart on her sleeve.And okay. Okay okay okay. Speaking of appearances. About what I said of her not caring about what people think of her, even seeming defiant with the caravan leader… There’s one istanxe of her caring actually, and it’s about how her face blushes easily. I remembered it as being because Laios’ said it and as I rambled Laios’ words are her world, but actually it’s ambiguous. It’s only Marcille imagining up this scenario where Laios says Falin looks weird because of it, there’s no evidence Laios said or thought that at any point. And on the other hand…

Her Adventurer’s Bible says: "5, Lovely Skin. She isn't particularly careful with it, but Falin's skin is fair and beautiful. Possibly as a result, her cheeks seem to flush easily. Marcille's always saying she's cute, and she secretly has a sizable complex about it." The phrasing makes me think the complex she has over her blushing might have developed because of Marcille more than Laios. "Marcille's always saying she's cute, and she secretly has a sizable complex about it." It could be related to how Marcille gets swept away and infantilizes her, calling her cute wanting her to wear cute feminine outfits etc. Again this feels like it relates to Falin’s struggle to be seen for who she is and what she wants to be seen as, her struggle to be recognized, having ideals and perspectives pushed onto her. Here Falin is insecure over her blushing implicitly because she doesn’t like being called cute over it, but that’s not how she wants people to see her. She doesn’t want Marcille to always see her as her 10 years old adorable friend. Like if your friend said you had puppy energy, it can be flattering, but it can also make you insecure.

Here’s a link to what I mentioned about her being uncomfortable wearing feminine outfits. It does seem to be more about comfort than the aesthetic perse, to me. Interestingly the shirt & shorts don’t seem like they show much more skin than her beach outfit, so maybe it’s more about the shirt and shorts being tight-fitting. Like the skirts and heels they feel stifling. Again a bit with themes of freedom and not wanting an aesthetic pushed onto her. So yes just to reiterate, I think this is more about self-affirmation and how her identity and self-image gets shown to others, rather than wishing to hide parts of her body like her blushing etc for people pleasing reasons. Makeup was a way for her to appear how she wants to and feel more confident. It was a way to take control over her own image. She didn’t keep doing it, the narrator stating the process to be ‘troublesome’. Ultimately she still prioritizes her comfort, and it was a lot of recurring efforts to go through.

And on the topic of appearances… A friend once asked me: "Does she really hide herself or not? I keep thinking about "falin is herself first and foremost" (in her Adventurer’s Bible profile) it’s just so. Hmmmmmmmm... I just keep seeing people say she hides her real self from people when I feel like the issue is more about her charitable traits straying too far into becoming flaws but people around her dont realize that..."

Imo the thing is, I don’t think she hides her identity, but I do think she suppresses her individuality for others’ sakes if that makes sense. In the way that only post-canon does she allows herself to go see what the world is like, but that’s not personality wise it’s needs and wants wise. And I do feel like that’s the closest interpretation of canon, she says it herself she doesn’t know what she wants because everything she’s done was always about Laios or Marcille, but she doesn’t change her demeanor or personality for others. But she *will*, like, not ask for things she wants directly, like sharing lunches with Marcille at the academy, she suppresses her wants, doesn’t ask things from people and doesn’t hope for more, hope for better. I don’t think we ever see her actively repress her personality, except like what, being more laidback than enthusiastic but I do feel like unlike Laios with her it’s less ‘appearing stoic to fit in more’ and more ‘yeah i’ll just chill until I’m needed or something activates my enthusiasm’. To which said friend quoted: "to feel like you belong you need to be useful. when you can’t be useful the next best thing is being convenient."

And speaking of passivity… I want to speculate about Shuro’s proposal some more. Shuro and her got along well though we don’t know how much, or how often they hung out, she even saved him from a nightmare. Why did she take so long answering Shuro’s proposal? Was it an effort to preserve or was she really just that conflicted? Procrastination probably yes, but what is the core motivation of itl Considering she ended up saying no to travel the world instead, I don’t think it was as simple as ‘she wanted to say yes for convenience’. Logically it’s what would have been best, but it’s not what she wanted for herself, but it was and still is hard for her to even know what she wants. Probably, since like she states it was a great offer and she doesn’t think she’ll get proposed to again, it’s that self-effacing tendency that yes it’d be convenient and logical, and that makes her want to say yes even if her spirit isn’t in it, because if it’s convenient then that’s more important than her feelings on the matter. Man also… Obviously Marcille is very vocal about how she shouldn’t get with Shuro, but imagine how Falin’s whole perspective on marriage must have felt when her only friend ever is a Romantic with a capital R who gushes about idealized romances and grand gestures and True Love and doing things with fully pure feelings all the time.

AND speaking of passivity!!! How much Falin is "there" as the chimera, just how much she’s master of her actions, is left ambiguous and intentionally so imo, but she’s for sure there & influencing the dragon’s action to some degree. Having a dragon’s foot on her in purgatory that keeps her from moving for sure visualizes how it must have been like, but there’s Falin calling out to her brother Laios, there’s the kind attentions towards Thistle that are so Falin-like, and most explicitly there’s the Adventurer’s Bible stating "Even after becoming a chimera, she has a soul that's as kind as ever", which I honestly dislike, a fantranslation puts it as "Even as the chimera, her caring nature remains" and either way to me it feels like confirmation that it’s her giving those berries to Thistle. Now, wether or not she has the mental capacity of a chicken or something closer to human Falin, no clue, there has to at least be some kind of mind bond between monsters and the dungeon lord, compelling or forcing them to go along with orders, or calling her to him in distress like with the fight on the first floor. But yes, it’s interesting to wonder what it is that a Falin, with her kind soul but without her human mind, would willingly do. On her profile, she’s described as Thistle’s guardian and servant. The power dynamic between the two are very interesting, I already went into how it might have felt like freedom to her while being fake so I’ll reign myself in and just mention it again. She’s still at the heel of someone, only now it’s someone who doesn’t care about her back. Going from being cared for so strongly that it’s suffocating and they would defy death and the world for you, to being devoted to someone who has not one feeling about you besides your utility as a paw . She has all this care to give and to focus onto others and he has none to send back to her and I think that’s part of it. In a way, being left with only her own feelings and a void, without expectations or feelings or ideals pushed onto her, it might have been soothing in itself, and eye opening. But yes the way I think of it, her care for Thistle isn’t unlike the care she gives the ghosts.

Interestingly, the care she extends for the ghosts is sending their soul to a peaceful death, freeing them, of life and any earthly attachment. Take that as you will with the themes of freedom and burden of life and mind, immortality and becoming a warped version of who you were, and such and such.

But going back on the topic of connections and bonds for a bit, I think academy days Falin & Marcille is super interesting bc we’ve never really see Falin form a connection besides with Marcille and even that is kept pretty ambiguous. When was the point that Falin started seeing Marcille as a friend and seeking her out? When was the "I’ll lay down my life for you" point? I’m so fascinated by how she wanted to share lunches with Marcille but never truly asked, only made little "hey want this? I found it isn’t it cool?" gestures of showing things to her… It’s the only way she knows to ask, or maybe it’s the only way she feels comfortable to. In all the scenes of young Falin and Marcille Falin seems comfortable in her friendship with Marcille, but at the same time… I think we see Falin at her most insecure around Marcille, because she really does care about Marcille and what she thinks of her so much, and while Marcille is a bit of an unstoppable force tornado style (affectionate) Falin is something of a doormat. I’d usually say showing her berries was her earnest way to connect and be like "Hey bestie look at this! :]" , but there’s a real possibility that she was self-conscious and holding herself back.

Friendship and Marcille! Involving Laios into this too but, again with the autism thing of not showing you care in ways that others understand, Marcille being very overtly affectionate and clingy was so so soo important… Marcille keeping on hanging out with Falin and caring after her, and being undeterred/unbothered by Falin not always seeming like she cares all that much back in the conventional way, as in Falin acts nonchalant and a bit like she didn’t mind wether she was there with her or not during her outings to the cave dungeon. Caring and being clingy and so affectionate despite that in such a classic Marcille way is soo needed, because so often people will get discouraged by say, their friend not keeping in contact regularly/well, seeming disaffected or as happy-go-lucky as ever even if you haven’t seen each other in a while or when they’re alone, and yes there’s potential for a strong friendship there but someone like Falin won’t be committed enough to reciprocating attention the same way… I hope I’m making sense but yes this angle in particular strongly correlates to autism. And the way Marcille always initiates physical affection, both Toudens being awkward about initiating touch because they don’t know if that’s allowed, if they’re going about the social interaction the right way, if they’re allowed to ask that out of someone…

Another fun observation to make is about the 4 years Falin and Marcille spent apart. Marcille despite being of a long-lived race treated these 4 years of separation with more gravity than Falin did. Falin brushed it off very dismissively to say the least. But then you remember that the amount of time Falin and Laios didn’t see each other after he left the village was 8 years. Double the years, double the time. And that reminder makes Falin’s actions so starkingly understandable. Of course she wouldn’t see 4 years of separation as a long time if 8 years of separation with her beloved brother is her point of comparison. Of course she’d see it as worth it to leave Marcille for 4 years if it meant ending those 8 years instead, especially if she was worried about him (the reason why she followed him into his caravan job).

A friend always says that while Falin is the center of Marcille’s world, Laios’ is at the center of Falin’s, and I tend to agree.

It’s fun to think of how her career dreams had always been shaped by Laios, even when they were kids. Of course there’s how traveling the world began as a dream they talked about and shared, but there’s how he reassures her by listing cool jobs she could do like traveling exorcist, etc. And then of course, she gave up on her magic academy and career path to follow him and do odd jobs, etc etc.

I should go into the violence of Faligon more tbh, because I think there’s an interesting parallel to how she has no problem wacking things with a mace, wether a ghost when she was a kid or a walking mushroom as an adult. Something that often surprises fans when they remember, I don’t really want to get into the whole " Falin hates violence and hates seeing people in pain to an intense degree. ‘If you die do it somewhere where I can’t see’ style’ interpretation, it has some weight but on the whole I don’t vibe with the theory she has a particular aversion to violence, she seems to be fine resorting to it as much as any other adventurer as long as it isn’t needlessly against ghosts. And Falin’s sudden mace hits are fun to me too because it’s not her becoming a berserker when the need arises as much as her becoming active because something she cares about is threatened, and that brings her out of her passivity from 99% of the rest of the time. Thistle included. Falin always could be violent, she just dislikes senseless carnage. The Shuro party vs chimera fight is a bit ambiguous on it, because you can argue she only attached after being provoked, presumably offscreen as well while the ninjas went off to fight the harpies. Falin becomes the most active when she needs to protect someone, she has no qualms doing whatever’s needed for that, wether it be leaving the academy & Marcille without notice no matter the consequences or what her parents think, or teleporting the party, etc.

I’m working on a post specifically pointing out all the differences between Falin and Laios, but yes I think both of them selfishly desire freedom in different yet similar ways. Falin’s dark secret is "Ethics and risks are optional if it means I can protect those I love" like the teleportation, and Laios’ is "Ethics and risks are optional if I can be free of all this bullshit" aka humanity aka his wish with the winged lion.

Conclusion

Flighted birds have hollow bones. With freedom and wings there comes risks and sacrifices.

Tldr: Falin doesn’t care all that much, she’s very go with the flow. For example if someone hates her she doesn’t really care because that’d require her caring about what they think of her in the first place, and she only cares about her loved ones. She smiles, but it’s more a state of being rather than out of active goodness: she’s canonically very genuinely kind, but it’s more out of a general want for pleasantness than active care itself. She’s passive, and softspoken because that’s just how she seems, but she has no problem hopping into bushes or getting heated if something calls to her enthusiasm or calls for action and a hit of the ol’ mace. Her loved ones needing tending or protective is what makes her go from passive to active. That familiar autopilot mode of making someone the center of her world and following their every move is what made her so easy to be controlled as the chimera, even ferociously defending him with her life. Faligon is most interesting to me with the theme of freedom. She’s shackled to Thistle and out of her mind, but there’s also a sense of empowerment and freedom from expectations and society. She spends all her time caring for Laios and Marcille alternating that none of her care and emotional energy is left for others, including herself. So she had to get relieved of all of that for a bit, becoming the chimera so she could reset and recenter and remember that she, too, indeed, is there and an important part of her own life. There’s a way of caring after others that can be selfish, not unlike Marcille being overly coddling and not listening to Falin. In Falin’s case, I think it was so selfless that it ended up looping back around to erasing her sense of self. In losing sight of herself, that devotion becoming neither quite selfish or selfless but a fact of life and a state of nature, muddled by its lack of direction.

She’s sooo used to never being able to ask things out of others, you get the crumbs of affection and approval that others offer to you unprompted and that’s it don’t hope for more don’t ask for more. (Also reflected in how she follows her loved ones around without complain or personal opinions and how she’s not willing to rock the boat and affirm herself in her relationships like with Marcille during canon)

Falin cares so much, so much and so laser focused on her few loved ones that it blinds her and she loses sight of everything else, she ends up neglecting herself and the rest of the world. As Kui puts it, Falin is herself first and foremost. She just had to remember the importance of that.

-

I see her as an enneagram 9, which can be surprisingly accurate and fun to research through the lense of Falin. Excerpt below from this book, but like my god, good way to put it

That’s it, ty for reading. Even if it’s a bit of a mess, hopefully you’ll have gained a thing or two from it. Falin is a character hard to pin down, but it is very gratifying when you find the way that the puzzle pieces fit together right for your own understanding of the story. Fantranslation of the shuro proposal comic by @/thatsmimi here.

Here’s my spotify playlist for her if you’d like

Sometimes love is about letting go, a lesson a lot of the cast needed to learn. Self-love’s important too, and just like with diets we need a healthy balance.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Golden Chain

Part Three of A Gilded Cage. Thank you @batchilla for workshopping with me and sharing your ideas! ~2.3k words

Jason isn't there when you wake up. It's something you expected, but it still makes something in your heart feel unsettled. Bean bats at your nose, and it motivates you enough to get out of bed.

Your life just sort of falls into a routine from there. Krystal, Destini, and Robbi fill your days with entertainment, in and out of the penthouse. Bean finds out that his favorite place in the world is on your shoulder or in your lap.

And Jason, Jason, he fills your nights. The notepad goes unused, but you see him every time the moon rises.

He starts to eat dinners with you. He starts to talk to you, never about what he's doing or why you're here. Even if you try to bring it up, he's quick to distract you or to change the topic. It's almost infuriating.

But, sometimes, sometimes, when he smiles at you and his eyes flicker, he almost feels like the boy he was before he disappeared.

You start to fall asleep at night with him at your side, hunched over and watchful in the chair next to your bed. It should be unnerving, should make you want to run and fight, and try to escape. But it doesn't.

You try to bury the part of you that feels safe at his side. Try to remind yourself that he kidnapped you to get you here. That all the military gear he's wearing isn't for show, that he must have some sort of plan.

It's not until Gotham falls into panic that you discover what those plans are. It's worse, that it's not him that tells you.

Krystal, Destini, and Robbi practically break down your door, it's not unusual for them to be excited, but their shared fear is.

They tell you about Scarecrow's threats, tell you about the deaths that occurred at Pauli's Diner. Krystal takes your hand at the end of it all nearly begs for you to go with them.

"It won't be safe, sugar," she says and her voice only shakes a little. The look in her eyes tells you that she knows it's a risk to ask, that whoever payrolls them to keep you company is dangerous.

"You should get out of town. Come with us, if you have nowhere to go. We can look after you till this all blows over," Robbi murmurs, voice low to avoid the prying ears of your 'bodyguards' stationed outside.

"I'm safe here," You tell them, and your voice sounds hollow to your own ears.

You haven't been so confused and lost, and shattered since you found out Jason was alive. You can't explain it, you don't have any proof, but your instincts are screaming that The Arkham Knight– that Jason has something to do with this.

"Honey, whoever–" Destini starts, before cutting herself off with a sigh, "We both know that's not true."

For a moment you want to go with them. To leave Gotham and all its claws and teeth behind. But you know, you know so deeply that he wouldn't let you go.

You shake your head and pull your hand from Krystal's, "Be safe," You say instead, "Get as far away as you can."

They're halfway out the door when you stop them, you hate crushing the hopeful look that crosses their faces. But you silently place Bean in Destinis hands.

You think it breaks their hearts and yours. And then they're gone.

Your well-meaning intentions don't get very far. This is clear because Jason doesn't show up for dinner. It's crystal clear, because as Gotham empties of civilians, Jason walks through the door of your prison with Bean under his arm.

You don't get to react before he drops the kitten in your lap, and Bean is more than happy to cuddle into your thighs.

"He's yours," Jason tells you as he tugs off his helmet, "not something to give away."

"Are they okay," You ask quickly, worry clear on your face and in your voice.

His lips twitch at your question, "They left Gotham unharmed."

You think it's the truth. You hope that he wouldn't lie about that. You don't have it in you to press.

"I just wanted him to be safe," You murmur, petting Bean as he nuzzles your stomach.

"He is safe. You're safe," Jason tells you firmly, standing rigid over your place on the couch.

You look up to meet his gaze, and your accusation slips out thoughtlessly, "Even if Scarecrow goes through with his plan? Even if– even if you go through with this."

You hope he denies what you're asking, tell you that he's not doing something so obviously wrong. He doesn't.

He stiffens more, eyes sharpening, "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," You plead, "tell me how working with Scarecrow is what you need to do."

He frowns, and tilts his head down as if to really look at you. His voice comes out hard, flat and nothing like the Jason you've grown used to, "I don't have time to explain it to you. All you need to do is stay here. It's safe."

"But, Jason," You protest, standing quickly as he turns to march back out the door, already tugging his helmet back on.

If his voice betrays how he's feeling, it's hidden behind the helmet's modulator, "This will all be over by tomorrow."

It sends shivers down your spine, how ominous his words feel. You don't get to ask anymore questions before he's tugging the door closed behind him.

He's left you, kitten meowing from the couch and the apartment feeling more like a cage than ever. It makes you want to scream, to cry, to break down the door and chase after him and demand to know why.

Why are you really here? Why can't you leave? Why is he working with Scarecrow?

There's no answer from the locked door. Frustration wells in your throat, and there's nothing, not a thing you can do.

So you sit. Listen to sirens sounding throughout a nearly empty Gotham. Watch smoke rise from a city abandoned by its people to the thugs and rouges of Gotham.

You sit and ache and hurt until you have to move. Until you find yourself out on the balcony overlooking the vacant buildings of the Diamond District.

It helps some. Jason had removed the glass at your request, and the cool night air is almost soothing.

You close your eyes, and for a moment it's almost peaceful. It's peaceful until a thump knocks you out of your thoughts, and you open your eyes.

Robin is perched on the railing two feet away from you. Robin is two feet away from you and every cell in your body is screaming that this is bad.

He says your name like he knows who you are, and you imagine he actually does, even if you've never met.

"I need you to come with me, you're in danger here," he says, extending his hand to you.

A part of you wants to. If anyone could help you, if anyone could get you freedom, wouldn't it be one of Gotham's vigilantes?

But you can't help but hesitate. Leaving means leaving Jason. No matter what he's done, why he's keeping you here, Jason wouldn't hurt you. He's been good to you. He's– he cares. He wants you safe.

"I'm not in danger," You tell Robin, and it sounds weak to your own ears. Your eyes dart between him and the city. It's wrong. You know it's wrong. But your hand won't move.

He looks like he pities you. It almost makes you sick. And then he tells you what The Arkham Knight is really planning.

The canisters of gas filled with enough fear toxin to cover the entire eastern seaboard. The nearly suicidal, revenge mission that ends in Batman's death.

That does make you feel sick.

"You have to come with me," Robin half-pleads, "You'll be safe."

You swallow thickly. It always comes down to that, doesn't it? Where people think you'll be safest. But you can't help but think that Robin is right. That Jason The Arkham Knight is out of control.

You reach for his hand. He helps you up onto the railing.

All hell breaks loose.

A gunshot fires. Robin makes a noise of pain and loses his footing.

The Arkham Knight barrels into you and sends you both falling over the railing and towards the pavement below.

There's screaming. There's– you're screaming. You're falling and screaming, and Jason tackled you over the edge of a building.

Your heart is pounding, and you're going to die, and you've never been so terrified in your life. The wind whips past your ears, the cold air bites at your skin. And the Arkham Knight has you in a death grip as he barks out orders for you to follow.

"Hold onto me– c'mon, you know how, move your legs," he demands, his grasp on your never faltering.

It's mechanical, a shadow of a memory that reminds you you do know how. You wrap your arms around his neck, hook your legs around his waist.

You think you hear him sigh in relief when you do, his arm clutching you all the more closer as he shoots his grappling gun for the nearest building.

Your stomach swoops as the momentum tosses you both onto a nearby roof, and you nearly sob when his feet hit the ground.

You're quick to untangle yourself from him, feet dropping to the concrete. He only wraps both arms around you to keep you tucked against his chest.

You want to let go of him, want to stop hugging him like he's the only lifeline you have, but you can't. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes you feel dizzy and sick. The fear of nearly dying makes your knees weak and tears prick your eyes.

Jason just strokes the back of your head, murmuring soft reassurances, "You're okay. You're okay. I got you. I won't let them take you away."

You think you let out another sob, all but collapsing against him. You feel like a mess, head spinning and throat tight. You'd almost died.

"Sorry, doll, we've got company," he says, voice going hard.

You don't get to process his words before he's dipping down, and hoisting you over his shoulder.

"Jason–" You choke out, adrenaline and fear spiking as you scramble for something to grab onto, fingers digging into the straps of his armor.

He doesn't answer, only breaks into a run, his arm wrapped around the back of thighs to keep you steady.

Gotham passed by in the blur of colors as you try not to throw up. You register Robin chasing after you. It's the only relief you've felt all night to know he's alive.

The relief disappears when The Arkham Knight shouts an order for drones, and the shots they fire at the vigilante following you makes your ears ring.

You wince as Jason jumps from roof to roof, jostling you and digging your body into the hard plates of his armor. It doesn't seem to slow him down, especially when he lets out a frustrated curse.

You'd be more confused if you weren't so panicked and overwhelmed. That is until, you catch sight of a black figure gaining ground across the rooftops behind you.

Batman. Batman is here. Batman can– you cut your train of thought off. Batman can't save you. It feels cold when the truth becomes clearer than day. Nothing can get you away from The Arkham Knight.

Dots dance in your vision, and bile rises in your throat. It passes in a haze, the way Jason drops down onto the streets, the way he shoves you into one of the armored cars lining the streets. The way the tank takes so many twists and turns it makes the urge to throw up that much stronger.

It's clear you've lost your tail. Either they followed the wrong tank, or they decided you weren't worth the trouble. The second thought makes you retch.

The Arkham Knight doesn't hesitate to rub your back, to try and comfort you. A small part of you is comforted. A bigger part of you wants to scream and cry and hit him.

He continues to order the men driving the tank, his touch never faltering in its rhythmic movements.

Your vision swims, the drive passes in a sickening, adrenaline crashed fueled blur.

You think you might be crying. But it doesn't really matter. Jason hooks his arms under your knees and cradles you to his chest just the same. He carries you out of the armored tank.

You only vaguely take in your new surroundings. The rush of militia soldiers around you, the tables and boxes of weapons and ammo, the shouts and laughs over another one of Batman's failures.

None of that matters either. All that matters is Jason's gloves digging into your skin, the way you can feel his heart pound even through the armor.

He carries you into a room. You think it's some kind of office. That doesn't matter either. He sets you on a couch. It's surprisingly soft. The leather feels cool against your skin. It eases the sick feeling in your stomach, the spinning of your head.

"Get some rest," he murmurs, and fingers trace your jaw for a moment, soft, gentle, and almost apologetic.

Then he walks to the desk. You watch in dazed horror when he pulls out a shiny, gold colored chain. You freeze in shock and betrayal when he attaches a cuff to your ankle and the other to the leg of the couch.

You think he murmurs that he's sorry it came to this.

But then he leaves, and you think he isn't sorry at all.

You break down into the leather cushions. Half you wishes you were still with Bean in that stupid penthouse. The other half of you wishes you had taken Robin's hand sooner.

But that doesn't matter. Nothing does. Because you're still trapped, stuck in some base that screams danger.

And you can't quite convince yourself this time, that Jason Todd wouldn't hurt you.

[dark-konohagakure2]

How about Edo Tensei Hashirama and Tobirama kidnapping and breeding Sasuke’s virgin older sister when they come across her? Hashirama is kinda obsessive and thinks he’s in love because she looks so much like Madara, while Tobirama is that much more savage/abusive with her for the same reasons. (hatefuck, noncon, cnc, mindbreak, loss of virginity, size difference bc they’re both giants, belly bulge)

tw: noncon, threesome, Edo Tensei, size difference, double penetration, past HashiMada, breeding, discrimination, hatefucking, abuse, belly bulge, slight yandere

All characters depicted are 18+

When Hashirama and Tobirama are brought back into the world via the reanimation jutsu, they quickly realize that the famous Uchiha clan has gone nearly extinct and each have different feels about the matter, Hashirama is deeply saddened, while Tobirama barely tries to hide his schadenfreude, but when the two of them discover the only surviving female of the Uchiha clan, who bears a striking resemblance to someone from their past, the brothers both have very different reactions, but very similar intentions.

As the two brothers corner her, Tobirama can't help but roll his eyes at the noticeable blush on Hashirama's face and the even more noticeable bulge in his pants, he had always suspected that his elder brother had a thing for Uchihas, although to be fair, so does Tobirama, but their shared Uchiha fetish manifests in difference ways, Tobirama's is about domination and hatred, Hashirama's is about a genuine love and attraction towards the Uchiha clan's members.

Tobirama is incredibly harsh, biting down on her shoulder roughly as he pumps his cock into her, growling insults into her ear and letting her know exactly how much he loathes her clan, and how this is the fate that the females of that cursed clan deserve.

Hashirama is much more gentle throughout encounter, unnerving her with how gentle and affectionate he is towards her, even as he bullies his thick cock into her pussy alongside his much less gentle younger brother.

"Ah~ Oh you're just too cute, my dear~ and you look just like someone very dear to my heart too, that just makes you even more enticing~!"

Both of them are very big men, and their cocks are big as well, so they stretch her out and fill her to the brim, with Hashirama lovingly taking her from behind while Tobirama savagely pounds her from the front, her stomach bulging with the shape of their cocks from just how deep they are inside of her.

Hashirama will scold Tobirama for being so rough with the poor girl, reminding him that she's very precious, being both the last female of an extinct clan and the spitting image of their dear former 'friend', but Tobirama will retort, emphasizing that he's only being so brutal because of those very reasons.

The juxtaposition between how the brothers treat her is almost unsettling, Hashirama is cooing praises into her ear, his thrusts deep yet gentle as he calls her his good girl, while Tobirama is using her like an unvalued toy, harshly hitting her womb with his cock at a rapid pace while telling her how much he detests her, and how someone as tainted as her deserves such unkind treatment.

Despite both being reanimated, they're still capable of cumming in this state, which they do, a lot. The two of them both cum inside of her fertile womb multiple times, filling her up to the brim with their superior Senju cum.

"Take that, Uchiha filth. This is what you deserve for being from the same clan as him, and get used to being filled up like this, because you belong to us now."

Hashirama is more than happy to have a substitute Madara that he can spoil and love, while Tobirama is glad to have an Uchiha to torment, so for once the two polar opposite brother's are in agreement on something.

[heedeungism]

synopsis: riki knows you better than anyone else. includes: bridgerton au (barely), a little women reference, confessions of love, pre-marital kissing (the scandal!), gross old men, arranged marriage notes: @hoes4hoseok i hope you enjoy my timothee chalamification of riki, this one's for you girl🩷

there’s a thin line between love and friendship. your mother says she was friends with your father before she ever learned to love him, never in the way the poets rave, but in a way that made her life easier. in her words, “a love match is as rare as a diamond, dear. you shouldn’t hold out hope of one should it ruin your debut.”

it’s a shame, you think, that you can love someone so deeply and yet there’s no guarantee they’ll share the sentiment, nor a chance to see if what you feel is dwindling infatuation or true unyielding devotion. it’s improper to explore your options, greedy to want more than expected, and childish to yearn for love. yet you do.

your debut season approaches fast, and with it, the heavy promise of your hand to baron mortimer weighs your heart down like an anchor keeping you from daydreaming of the things you had read and researched about love.  he’s wealthy, titled, and twice your age. he would give your family a more comfortable life, save you from the shame of becoming a spinster if you do not find another suitable match your first season, and seems to be respectable enough despite his intent to marry you, a soon-to-be debutante he set his eyes upon years ago. it’s unnerving, but your mother speaks of him without disdain, so you keep your anxieties about his character at bay.

unfortunately, your dearest friend plagues your mind just so. riki’s return from oxford approaches with the same swiftness as your debut. you dread the idea of no longer having the liberty to write to him or paint him when he’s a willing muse, as it would be improper to do so while promised to another. for that reason you have yet to write to him since your last letter a week ago, where in it you bid him the gentlest farewell you could to help ease the ache in your heart.

you aren’t sure if he even received it, as he has not written back, but you suppose it’s for the best.

at least you believe that until he’s before you with unkempt hair and a haunted look in his tormented gaze. 

“tell me it is not true.” he says, chest rising and falling as if he had run from oxford to mayfair on foot, though perhaps he had been traveling by carriage since he received the letter clutched between his fingers. “tell me you are not marrying that man.”

you are unsure of how to respond, your lips parting hut no words leaving them. you turn toward your ladies maid, who blinks wildly as she receives the message, placing your hairpin down and hastening out of the room past the viscount’s son. the door clicks and yet his gaze remains unyielding, you finally speak, “you are back early, mr nishimura.”

riki had always been exceedingly easy to read, only to you, he used to pout. this moment is no different, and you can see how hard it is for him to wrap his head around his title leaving your lips instead of his name, but he recovers enough to repeat himself, “tell me.”

you place a hand on your stomach, squeezed by a corset that you suspect is why you can’t seem to catch your breath, “i will not lie to you.”

his brows furrow, his teeth peeking from his plump lips as they part in disgust and frustration, “he is old.”

“yes, i am aware of lord mortimer’s age.” you say with a similar frustration on your tongue that is heavily withheld by your propriety, “my mother saw it pertinent i educate myself before our marriage.”

“you cannot marry him.” riki says, and the frustration in your blood blooms into something more, something worse.

“that is not your decision to make.” you state, mindlessly flattening invisible wrinkles in your dress as he takes a step closer, only for you to fortify the distance with one of your own in the same direction, “not any more than it is mine.”

“you…” he loses his words as his hand clenches and releases at his side like he longs to reach for you, “you do not want this.”

“what i want does not matter to my parents anymore than it should to you,” you state, attempting to tuck the loose strand of hair that your ladies maid hadn’t the time to fit into your updo behind your ear, only for it to fall right back into place against your cheekbone, “lord mortimer is wealthy, he will give me a comfortable life.”

“do you not deserve a happy one?” riki asks, and you feel the cracks in your chest widen. instinctively, you fight the tremble of your chin and the tug in your brow as tears attempt to fit through the open crevice of your act.

“no, don’t—“ you shake your eyes, turning away from him as your arms drop to your sides, “don’t do that. i have accepted my future, i do not need you planting doubts in my mind.”

“what use would planting them do when i can see they’ve already taken root far before i arrived here?” you overlook the step he takes, nor how large his stride is. he only takes one yet it makes all the difference, as he feels infinitely closer than before. just as you feared he would.

“stop it.” you say, masked inside a heavy exhale, yet a plea all the same. “you should be visiting with your sisters, i’m sure they missed you dearly—“

“don’t marry him.” he says, and you finally look at him.

“what?” you ask despite knowing exactly what he said, you want to hear him say it again to make sure it wasn’t in your head.

he shakes his head, taking another step closer, “don’t marry him.”

“you…” he doesn't have to explain what he means, your childish hopes of love that you’d hidden so deep in your conscience do so for him. your heart sings as his eyes flick between your own and then down the bridge of your nose and lower, but your mind refuses to bend as your heart does. you shake your head, shuffling back to salvage whatever distance you can, “no.”

“yes.” he responds in kind, dropping the letter and closing the distance between the two of you to grab your hands. his next words are paired with the act of him flattening your palm against his chest, keeping it there while he grasps the other in his much larger hand, “you can’t marry him.”

“you are being cruel.” you try to pull away, but his grip is firm and you know that if you meet his gaze you won’t be able to fight it anymore.

there’s a sickening silence as his thumb draws shapes on the back of your hand, you can feel his heartbeat. it’s strong, and its pace only feeds your own heart wanton promises of devotion you had only ever been told were too rare to expect in your lifetime, “tell me you do not want me.”

the suddenness of his demand lowers your guard for just long enough for your heart to find the upper ground and force your eyes into his sights, he repeats himself, “tell me you do not want me and i will leave you to marry lord mortimer.” his words are punctuated by the hand not holding yours to his heart grasping the side of your jaw, his thumb moving against your warmed cheek, “tell me and i will never speak to you again, just as you requested in your letter. you will never have to see me and i won’t—“

“i don’t want that.” the words leave your lips without warning, but it’s too late to take them back by the time they reach his ears. you shake your head, “i don’t—i don’t want to marry, i want to paint and read and—“

he listens as your supposed acceptance crumbles beneath his gaze, chest heaving under your palm. “—i want to do all of those things with you, i do. the baron has my parents under his wretched thumb and i cannot bear it, i cannot—“ a sharp inhale rakes your body, a mix of a sob and a desperate but fruitless attempt to regain composure, “i don’t want you to go away, i want you to stay here with me and—“

his lips meet yours with a firmness that sets your heart aflame, and when he pulls away just enough to look at you your heart finally lands the finishing blow in its fight against your mind. your hand lingers on his chest as the one he uses to keep it there moves to mirror its counterpart on the other side of your jaw.

you barely glance down at his lips before they’re on yours again, a welcome experience that you hope you can experience over and over until you’re utterly familiar, but now you're not sure how to reciprocate. the novels you’ve read did little to educate you on the experience, much less prepare you for it to occur with the boy you’d found yourself longing for through the years. 

the gasp you let out when his hand moves from your jaw to your waist to tug you closer is silenced by his lips attaching themselves to yours like he’d spent a lifetime wishing to taste you.

he pulls away, yet he doesn't seem keen on keeping the distance, his nose brushing yours as he promises, “i will speak to your parents—”

the mention of them has your guts turning painfully enough to rip you away from him, nausea hitting you like a bullet through your throat, “i should not have done that.”

“i kissed you—“ his statement does little to quell your sickness, and the wavering grate in your voice as you interrupt him is telling of that. “that changes nothing.” your fingers move to your hair, the pin keeping it in place falling to the floor as you tug, “i am ruined. forget marrying the baron, i cannot marry anyone.”

“was i not clear?” he asks, and when you look at him with frustrated reluctance he continues, “should i gut myself? place my heart in your hands to have you understand how you haunt me?”

“we cannot marry.” you say, bottom lip trembling, “i will not be a consequence of your actions. it is not your duty to marry me when i am the only one ruined.”

riki’s jaw shifts as if your words brought him only fury, “i do not care for duty, i care for you.” 

“you are young, riki. you are not expected to marry for at least—“

“i want to.” he states firmly, “you said you wanted me to stay, so i am staying. i will dance with you at balls. i will send flowers and call on you every morning. i will promenade alongside you for as long as it takes. i…”

he moves towards you, thumbs brushing away the tears under your eyes as his forehead meets yours, “i am yours, do with me what you will.”

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 10

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Feeling the tension rise, Greg nervously tried to leave, but you stepped in. “Don’t!”

“Yes…?” Greg’s voice wavered.

“Don’t tell them I’m pregnant. Because I’m not. I can’t lie about that.” You rubbed your temples, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in on you, even though it was still early in the morning.

You shot a glance at Greg. “Schedule a press conference. Both of us will speak.”

Greg nodded rapidly. “Yes. Yes, that’s great.” He scurried out of the apartment without a second thought.

Bucky muttered under his breath, “I paid millions for this campaign team, and this is what I get.”

You snapped back at him. “No! Don’t change the subject!” Your voice was sharp, frustration burning in your eyes. “All of this is your idea.”

Bucky didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor frustrating you further. “My idea, yes. But it’s your choice now,” he replied, as if everything was calculated in his favor.

“Me? Lying about being pregnant? Have some humility, Bucky!” You threw your hands up in disbelief.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, calculating smile. “I’m proud of you for making that decision,” he said smoothly, as if this was some twisted game he’d already won. His calmness was unnerving, like he already knew the outcome.

You sighed deeply, your breath heavy with exasperation. Bucky casually walked over to the coffee machine and offered you a cup. You took it, reluctant but exhausted. When you sipped, the familiar taste made you pause. It was perfect—exactly how you liked it. He still remembered.

But even the perfect coffee couldn’t wash away the bitterness and exhaustion hanging over you like a dark cloud.

You set the cup down and looked up at him, your eyes narrowing. “What’s the deal you made with Steve?” The question hung in the air, sharp and deliberate, like a card you were waiting to play.

Bucky leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “The deal?” He sipped his own coffee, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—calculation, maybe? “Let’s just say... Steve’s skeletons are a lot messier than mine. I was always just the distraction.”

There was something chilling in the way he spoke, like he was always one step ahead. You realized then—you were in deeper than you thought.

Bucky took a slow sip of his coffee before setting it down on the table. His gaze stayed sharp, his voice deliberate. “The reason he chose me is simple. I’m the gatekeeper. Let’s be real, picking me as the youngest candidate? That’s a huge risk.”

The opponent was formidable—strong, relentless, and hungry for any opportunity to exploit weakness. So, what other option was there?

Bucky was the safest choice, not just because of his background, but because he held Steve’s deepest secrets—truths that couldn’t be silenced with money or threats. Bucky came from wealth, from power, from a lineage that made him untouchable. Steve knew that. He also knew something else: Bucky’s weakness was you.

Despite the disagreements within the party, Steve silenced the dissenters. He’d calculated every move. Choosing Bucky was risky, but Steve needed someone he could control, someone who could take the fall if necessary.

Bucky knew why he was chosen. He understood the game—Steve, the elder statesman, needed a younger face to shield him from the inevitable attacks. Bucky was to be his defense, the gatekeeper, the distraction.

The rumors about you and Bucky were intentional, designed to take the heat off Steve. Let the world believe Bucky was struggling in his personal life. Let them focus on his public spectacle while Steve worked in the shadows, untouchable.

Edgar and Brock—the opponents—would see the headlines and think Steve had been weakened by Bucky’s scandal. But they were wrong. This was the plan all along.

Bucky would take the blame. He would absorb the media’s attention, while Steve quietly solidified his path to the presidency.

For Bucky, it was more than a political maneuver. Accepting Steve's offer wasn’t just about power—it was his chance to break free from the chains his mother had shackled him with. And it was his chance to get you back.

He knew Steve had calculated his every move, and yet, Bucky had his own agenda. In the end, he wasn’t just a pawn in Steve’s game; he was playing his own, too.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “This is why I never wanted to cover elections. Everything is rigged.”

Bucky chuckled softly, a knowing look in his eyes. “That’s politics for you, sweetheart. It’s not about being clean—it’s about playing the game better than everyone else.”

You shifted, suddenly feeling the urge to get answers. “What about Steve’s skeletons?” you asked, your voice edged with curiosity.

Bucky had just picked up a chocolate muffin, but he stopped mid-bite. Setting it down, he met your gaze, dead serious. “I’m the only one who knows,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you. I’ll carry those secrets to my grave.”

His loyalty to Steve was unsettling, a bond you could see ran deep.

“And don’t even think about digging for information,” Bucky warned, his voice firm, eyes hardening. “You’ll put both of us in danger if you try.”

The finality in his tone hit you like a wall. He was serious, and it was clear that stepping into that territory wasn’t just risky—it was deadly.

“Bucky,” you said softly, your voice filled with exhaustion.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up from his phone, his attention split.

“If I can’t do this anymore... I want to leave.”

The silence that followed was thick. Bucky didn’t respond immediately, didn’t even look up at you. Instead, he remained still, his fingers lightly tapping against his phone. Finally, he spoke, his tone low and measured. “Get ready for the press.”

You sighed heavily, frustration and defeat settling into your chest like a heavy weight. Leave? Could you even escape at this point?

The thought circled in your mind, but Bucky had already made it clear—he wasn’t letting you go that easily. His control, his manipulation—it had all tightened around you like a noose.

And despite everything, despite the lies, the secrets, the betrayal... you could see it in his eyes. He didn’t plan to lose you again.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Soon, you stood next to him in front of a swarm of cameras, bright lights burning into your skin.

Bucky adjusted his suit jacket, offering a polite smile to the flashing lights. He stepped up to the podium, and as soon as he began speaking, it was as if a switch had flipped. The man beside you was no longer just your husband—he had become the perfect politician.

“I want to thank you all for coming here today,” Bucky began, his voice smooth, confident. His gaze swept across the audience, calculated and calm. “Marriage is never easy. It's a journey filled with highs and lows, and like any relationship, it can face... turmoil.”

The word hung in the air, a subtle indication of the cracks beneath the surface.

“Over the last few years, my wife and I have faced our share of challenges. We chose to take separate paths for a time, not because the love was lost, but because we believed it was what we needed. We both needed space to grow as individuals,” he said, pausing to glance at you.

You stood there, silent, watching him weave this narrative so effortlessly. Seeing him like this—so fluent, so convincing—it was almost sickening. He was lying, and yet every word that came from his mouth seemed to be wrapped in a veneer of truth.

“But sometimes,” he continued, “fate brings people back together. We crossed paths again, and in doing so, we rekindled that old romance we once shared. This has not been an easy journey, but we both realized that our love—despite everything—was worth fighting for.”

You forced yourself to stay composed, even as your mind raced. How had he become this person? So skilled in deception, so willing to put on a performance for the world. This wasn’t the man you had married.

This was a man molded by ambition, by politics. He had learned to manipulate truth, to twist it to his advantage. And now, he was using that skill to reshape the story of your marriage.

He went on, his tone softening just enough to appeal to the emotions of the audience. “I know many young couples out there experience similar struggles—times when things seem too difficult to overcome. But I stand here today to tell you that it’s possible. Love is complicated, but it’s also worth the fight.”

The live chat on the screen buzzed with comments, many of them expressing support, calling your relationship ‘inspiring,’ applauding your ‘courage.’ They were buying it. Every single word.

Bucky turned to you, offering a practiced smile. To them, it was a look of adoration. To you, it was a silent warning. Stay in line. Play your part.

As Bucky wrapped up his speech, the room filled with the sound of reporters typing, cameras flashing, and the quiet hum of people whispering. His words had been perfectly delivered—calm, composed, and persuasive. But it was the next moment that truly sealed the deal.

He turned toward you, and for a brief second, his eyes met yours. You could see the flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or exhaustion. But before you could fully process it, he stepped closer. The cameras zoomed in, the world seemed to hold its breath, and Bucky pulled you into a tight embrace.

His hands rested on your waist, steady, as though he were trying to ground himself. You stiffened at first, the tension between you impossible to ignore, but the weight of the press watching forced you to respond. Slowly, you lifted your arms and hugged him back, trying to make it look as natural as possible.

Then, without warning, his lips brushed against yours. A kiss, soft but purposeful, meant to sell the image of a couple rekindling their love. The cameras went wild, and you could feel every flash burning the moment into eternity. But beneath the act, you could sense the hollowness of it all.

"Still think we’re good at pretending?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Maybe it’s not all pretending."

You stayed locked in his arms for a moment longer, both of you playing your roles. To everyone watching, you were the perfect couple, finding your way back to each other. But to you, it felt like a performance—one more layer of the deception you both had to endure.

And yet, for all the pretending, there was an undeniable truth beneath it. The way Bucky held you tighter, as if he needed that connection to steady himself, made it clear. He wasn’t just showing the world something—they both needed this.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once the press conference ended, you felt drained—emotionally and physically. As you walked off the stage, Bucky’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately.

“Steve,” he greeted, his voice low. You stood beside him, listening quietly.

“Didn’t expect it to go this well,” Steve’s voice crackled through the line. “Good job. I was hoping you could drag this out for a few more days, though.”

Bucky leaned against the table, his tone casual but firm. “I couldn’t do that. My wife’s already pissed about this. I’m not pushing her any further.” His eyes flicked to you as he spoke, his face unreadable.

There was a pause on the other end. Then Steve’s voice came again, smoother this time. “Still, you handled it well. Let’s hope the media stays focused on you two and not... anything else.”

Bucky smirked, the expression barely reaching his eyes. “They will. This whole mess? It’s just a distraction, Steve. You know that.”

Steve chuckled lightly. “I’m counting on it.”

Bucky ended the call without another word, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He turned to you, eyes narrowing slightly. “See? Everything’s under control.” He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm, but you pulled away.

Control. That’s what it was always about with him. And for now, he had it. But for how long?

You noticed something you hadn’t before—Bucky’s jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense, and his grip on the phone was tighter than usual. His usual confident façade seemed to falter, even if just for a moment. He looked... uneasy.

You had never seen him like this, not even during the press conference. Something about that call with Steve had rattled him. The way his eyes darkened, how his fingers twitched slightly as if restraining himself from saying more—it was a side of him you rarely witnessed.

And in that fleeting moment, you understood. It wasn’t just you who felt trapped in this web of lies and manipulation. It was Bucky, too. For all his calm demeanor, all his calculated moves, he was just as cornered.

He wasn’t in control like he wanted you to believe.

For the first time, you realized that Bucky wasn’t just pulling the strings—he was tangled in them. Just as trapped as you, if not more so. The weight of Steve’s power over him, the pressure of the campaign, the expectations, the secrets—it was all bearing down on him, too.

And in a strange, twisted way, it made him seem... vulnerable.

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[moonstruckme]

Poly!marauders with a reader who has a hard time explaining (or expressing how she feels) thing??? Like, she knows what to say but she stumbles over her words a lot??

You dont gotta write this obviously, have an amazing day!!!!! <3

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Hope you had an amazing day too :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 784 words

You’re feeling a bit cramped. You’ve got your back to the couch’s armrest and your knees are pressed tight to your chest, feet all but tucked under you to avoid touching James’ thigh. Remus lounges casually on his other side, Sirius sprawled with his legs over the opposite armrest and his head in Remus’ lap. They all look perfectly laidback, spread out and limbs overlapping as they chat about the upcoming quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Meanwhile, you’re afraid to breathe too deeply lest you take up any more space. 

“They’ve been having a great season,” James says, but Sirius only scoffs.

“Yeah, but they’ll never work up the guts to play as dirty as Slytherin does,” he argues. “There’s no winning against them if you’re not willing to meet them where they are.” 

“We never have, and—here, love, that can’t be comfortable—” James takes you by the ankles, encouraging your legs to lie across his lap. You hold your breath, not daring to move a muscle but allowing him to maneuver you as he likes. “—and as long as I’m captain, we never will. We won against Slytherin fair-in-square this season, why can’t Hufflepuff?” 

“You’re delusional.” Sirius rolls his eyes, but then they catch on you interestedly. “Prongs, I think you’ve stupefied her.” 

James turns back to you, brown eyes warming with concern. “Sorry, lovely, I didn’t even ask before moving you. Are you comfy now?” 

You can feel your face igniting. This thing with them is so new, and you feel always on the brink of doing something that will spoil it. You don’t know what liberties to take, what to say or not say, whereas the boys seem relentlessly self-assured in every respect. You like having your legs spread across James, but part of you feels like you’re not allowed to like it. 

“Oh, yeah, um,” you stammer, “I’m good.” 

James looks unpersuaded. You don’t blame him; you haven’t done a great job of it. “Are you sure?” he asks. “We’re taking up more than our fair share of space, we can move over if you like.” 

You shake your head emphatically. 

Mirth sparks to life in Sirius’ eyes as he recognizes your state; it’s the beginning of his favorite game. “What is it, baby? Cat got your tongue?” 

“Pads,” Remus chastises, though his own countenance holds evidence of mild amusement, “leave her alone.” He turns his attention to you. “Does it make you uncomfortable when one of us touches you like that, dovey? It’s not a problem if it does, we can stop.” 

“No!” you exclaim, half-desperate. “I mean, it’s not not nice, I just didn’t…”

James strokes the skin of your ankle in a way that you’re sure is meant to be reassuring but only unnerves you further. “Didn’t what, sweetheart?” 

“I just—I—well, you know—”

“Not sure we do, sweet thing,” Sirius drawls. 

“I just—I don’t know,” you say, growing frustrated. “I’m not sure what the rules are, or the…what’re they called? The boundaries, or whatever. I’m not making any sense, sorry.” 

“No it’s alright, don’t apologize,” Remus says. “You’re saying that you weren’t sure if you could touch us, right?”

You nod mutely, wondering that the room hasn’t gone up in flames from the heat coming off your face. 

Remus nods in turn. “Right, well that’s understandable. None of us have bothered to check in with you, have we?” You’re unsure whether you’re supposed to answer, but Remus goes on, fixing you with a painfully kind look. “I don’t have any reservations about it, and I don’t think James or Sirius do either. Lads?” 

“None at all,” James agrees, and Sirius sends you a wink. 

“Touch me any way you like, dollface.” 

Remus gives you an exasperated look about that, but there’s a good heaping of fondness in it. Then his expression softens again. “What about you, sweetheart?”

You take a moment to fit the words into your mouth. “I’m good with that.” 

James makes a sound of teasing endearment, tugging you by the legs so you’re nearly in his lap and squeezing your knee affectionately. “Our shy girl. You know you can tell us these things, don’t you?” 

“I know,” you sigh, letting your head come to rest tentatively on his shoulder. “I just…I can’t always—it’s like my mouth won’t cooperate.” 

“Do you get nervous, honey?” Sirius wheedles, pouting when you try to use James’ form to hide from him. James chuckles, obliging you by setting a hand on your face, covering you from Sirius’ view. “Why would that be? Are we so scary?”

“Don’t torture her, Pads.” James strokes your cheekbone consolingly. “If she never talks to us about anything again, I’m blaming you completely.”

[thragedys]

Clear Mind

Ren x Fem Reader

REBOOTING...

Synopsis: With many dreadful thoughts lingering on your conscience, you have been experiencing trouble regarding trust in the people close to you. With the news rambling on about murders and the everlasting feeling of eyes glaring at you, you’re close to breaking. You can’t shake that forever-present paranoia alone.

Word count: 2.3k

Includes: Ren x Fem Reader, comfort, Ren being sweet, establishing a relationship, smut, oral, cunnilingus, kissing, clothed orgasm

A/N: Ren is too cute! I had to write something about him.

It was strange—his behaviour. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, the constant jitters in his facade. Your emotions are constantly changing. At this point, you are uncertain how you feel towards Ren. Part of you pities him and wants to remain his friend, but the other wants to get as far away as possible. Miles, perhaps a new city. However far your legs can take you.

He hasn’t done anything to harm you. He would never. His protectiveness, however, disturbs you deeply. How he told your friends he was your boyfriend without the slightest hint of hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly affectionate and intimate. If you’re able to clear the air with him this evening, there will be no more worries remaining. Other than the uneasy sensation of a set of prying eyes burning through you every passing moment. 

You blame your neighbour, Violet, for that unnerving sense of paranoia. She just had to mention she witnessed someone exiting your apartment. Someone you weren’t aware was in there in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle taps against your door. It’s Ren. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you stand to your feet, legs wobbling as you make your way to answer. Pulling down the handle, you take a deep breath and gaze up at the lanky figure before you.

“Hi! Is everything okay? You look… Ill?” Ren pats his hand against the side of your face and you huff, feeling guilty for ever suspecting anything of him. Awkward people tend to shift their behaviour when around new individuals to avoid getting embarrassed, that’s likely his reasoning.

“I just need to talk to someone. I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.”

“Told you that you could stay at my place whenever you wanted, didn’t I?” His smile was soft, raising the bag of goodies he brought with him. “Can I come in? It’s food and a few other things.”

…

“Wow, you don’t look well at all… Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern grows as you snap out of your trance, opening the door further for him to enter.

“I’m scared, Ren.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything— everything for that matter.”

“I swear I saw someone outside of my window a few days ago. I don’t know what they were doing, but I saw them. Hardly anyone is ever out there.”

“Hmm? Were they looking your way?”

“…I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine! Don’t stress over it. We can talk about this after we eat. You need to get some food in you.”

Pulling out the boxed portions of food, he slides yours over and begins digging into his own, keeping a keen eye on you while you nibble at your meal. Even though you can’t shake the impending dread, you regain your appetite after seeing he purchased your favourite for you.

Now you feel a little bit better. You push any food waste aside and notice how he immediately goes to dispose of it, taking care of your duties inside of your own home without you having to ask. Ren was a sweetheart.

“How do you want to do this? Lying down, sitting, standing?” He taps his fingers against the tabletop, his eyes filled with worry as you space out yet again.

“Do what?”

“Talk. I wanna hear everything you have to say so you can get it off of your mind.”

“Oh, the sofa will do. Thank you for coming over.”

“No need to thank me! I’m happy to be here, so happy to be with you. I missed you so much.”

Not quite catching the last part of his sentence, you sink onto the sofa and rest your head against his arm. You pour your heart out to him, unsure if you’re overstepping by not holding back — but he did tell you he’s here to listen. And he did. 

When you finished listing off your worries, he hummed and squeezed you tighter, now realising that during your full confession, you somehow ended up in his embrace. His nose is pressed into your hair, one hand stroking up and down your back, hushing you as a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, Angel… You’re safe, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, you can tell he is hurt by how upset you’ve been. “I’m here for you. Do you want to stay at my place tonight? Clear your head, get away from all those thoughts.”

“I can’t hide from my fears forever, Ren.”

“Then you’ll have to let me fight them off. I’ll beat up the bad guys for you and the bad thoughts.” He raises his fists playfully, locking eyes with you as you lift your head.

“Are you sure you could handle them?”

“Easily! Oh, I forgot to ask…” Ren murmurs, twiddling with the fabric of your shirt. “I am allowed to stay over, aren’t I? I brought my essentials, so…”

“Of course. I’m going to use the bathroom; you can go get yourself comfy.”

“You’re the best! I’ll be waiting for you.” He springs to his feet and wanders off into your bedroom, leaving you to tend to your nighttime routine.

Applying the final step of your skincare, you pat your face and yawn. It has gotten quite late, you’re starting to wonder whether Ren fell asleep without you. Entering the bedroom, you spot him sitting on the edge of the bed, as though he was seriously waiting on your command so he could lie down. His eyes sparkle when they land on your figure, and his arms open.

“Snuggle?” He flutters his eyelashes, his blue eyes boring through yours as you sit on his lap.

“Sure.”

“I checked outside of your window. I looked everywhere I could and saw nothing suspicious. I might have scared them off.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Do you deserve one?”

“But… I protected you! I made sure any scary people left you alone. They won’t dare try anything while I’m here.”

“I was teasing you, Ren.”

“Oh…”

“You’re such a good boy. You do everything you can to help me.”

“Don’t say things like that…!” His face lights up a bright shade of red, eyes snapping to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Why are you so cute?” 

“Dunno… Why are you so beautiful? You are an angel. My angel.” Ren trails off, propping himself above you while your body is crushed to the mattress. “Mine.”

Your face is held in his palms, his eyes laced with nothing but adoration as they analyse you. He was tracing every detail of your face, trailing down your body, and stopping in their tracks when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his turtleneck. As he redirects his gaze back up to your face, he notices how your hand sneakily wrapped itself in his hair and edged him closer towards you.

He can never get used to this. The way you kiss him first destroys him. If he wasn’t desperate enough before, he is now. After recollecting his thoughts, he nips at your bottom lip and grants himself more access to your mouth, taking control from here. His pretty girl shouldn’t have to put all the work in.

“Can I…?” Ren mumbles into your mouth before pulling away, the string of saliva keeping you both connected. He twangs the waistband of your shorts, his index finger tracing swirls on your exposed stomach.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll be gentle. I know you haven’t been feeling your best, so let me do everything today. I just wanna take your mind off of things. I want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. You make me feel safe.”

“…?” Ren halts, his hair brushing against your leg as he stares up at you from between your thighs.

“You mean a lot to me, Ren. More than you think. You drop everything for me when I need you most—no one has ever valued me that much before.”

“It will always be you above anything else. Nothing will ever be more important than you.” He slides down your panties, revealing the mess before him. 

“I love you.” Ren uttered, planting kisses down your inner thigh.

It went unheard, exactly as he was hoping it would. His words were mumbled as he delved in between your folds, his tongue exploring you frantically as if it were his first time. Your cunt was familiar with him now. His tongue traced the shape of a heart on your clit, then repeated similar motions until he watched your eyes flicker shut.

“Keep them open, please…” Ren laces his hand with yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wants you to watch everything he does, wants you to remember who made you feel so good.

Your hips buck forward, accidentally pressing yourself even closer to him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place while he savored your taste. No other reward could compare to this. The thought that you were this wet because of him riles him up. He made you this way, no one else. 

Slipping two fingers into your entrance, he remains gentle like he had promised. He was relishing in your reactions, slowly bringing you closer to an orgasm, then taking it away by altering his rhythm. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to cum for him—it’s that he doesn’t want this to end. For the past few days he hasn’t seen you face to face; he had craved this exact encounter.

Your walls tighten around him, an indicator that you won’t be able to hold on much longer, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s lost in your taste, entranced by the way you push yourself against him, allowing him to ravish you as if you were his last meal. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets. Due to the grip you have on his hair, it became quite messy—the strays flying freely.

“I’m so close, Ren…” You whine, letting his name roll off of your tongue a few more times. Your eyes have grown hazy, unable to take them off him.

“Then cum for me. It’s my reward after all…”

Hearing his words pushed you, causing the cord building intricately inside of you to snap. You muffled your moan, forgetting the time and the likelihood of your neighbours attempting to get rest. The last thing you need is a visit from security due to a noise complaint. Ren pulls back, sliding his fingers from your cunt and wiping any fluid that smeared on his face away.

There was something odd about him. Whether it be the dark lighting or that look in his eyes—there was a different energy surrounding him. He likes the fingers that have been inside of you, sending a shudder down his spine. 

“What…? Do you want a taste too? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Ren pouts, extending his fingers to brush across your lips, smearing your slick across them.

“You’re looking at me all funny. Is there something wrong?” Ren’s once smug demeanour disappears, his hand patting his face while you shake your head.

“You’re so handsome. I’m so lucky.”

“…!” Ren leans forward, his breath hitching as if he were in disbelief.

“I was jealous when that girl was all over you in that store. Really jealous. I don’t know what we are or if we even are an official thing, but I know I would love to be your real girlfriend.”

“Angel…” Ren murmurs, utter disbelief upon him as he tries to get his words out. “You’re going to make me cry— in a good way… A really good way! I never knew—”

“Can you stay over more often?” Your eyes water, locking with Ren’s teary pair.

“I’ll stay over whenever you want, all you have to do is ask. I can’t believe this is actually… Do you know— Ugh. I can’t get my words out, why now?” Ren mopes due to his poor communication, but your chuckle grants him enough reassurance to continue trying.

“I was hoping you felt the same way I did, but I didn’t want to force anything on you. I’m sorry things have been so confusing between us. If I would’ve known, I would’ve made it all so much clearer.”

“Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

“I suppose… but, if you want the truth, we already were a long time ago in my mind. My eyes have only been on you. They always will be. They always have been…”

“Hm?” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, curious to hear what he said.

“Nothing, I’m just rambling on, typical me…” Ren beams, nestling his head down onto your chest. “It feels nice to know you’re only mine now.”

“Did you think I wanted anyone else?”

“No… but! That doesn’t stop people from wanting you. They can’t have you, so I win.”

“You seem very proud of yourself.”

“I am. I’m an even prouder boyfriend knowing you’re the one I have.”

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ren lifts his head, his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t have the chance to give you any pleasure.”

“I had lots, don’t worry. Seeing you like that was enough for me.”

“Did you…?” You raise an eyebrow, squinting your eyes as your inquisitive nature piques.

“…” Ren’s cheeks light up, already aware of what you are insinuating. “Well— Yes! How couldn’t I? You’re just soo pretty, and you were moaning my name in that whiny voice, and—”

“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain. Do you want to clean yourself up?”

“M’ too sleepy. I’ll take a shower in the morning and sort everything out then.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you up nice and early with me in that case.”

Accepting defeat at the early rise, Ren groans and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His body is sprawled out on top of yours, his limbs snuggling you tightly. There is no chance of you escaping him in the night with his sheer strength, you would need to be plied off of him to be free again. Before you know it, your eyes unwillingly close and your heart sinks with his, blissfully falling into a slumber together.

[userlando]

fill her veins — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [3.5k] summary: your friend’d had you in all the different ways. fast and hard, deep and bone rattling but this was his favourite. lazy, slow and deep. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, friends with benefits, porn without plot, lazy sex, unprotected (piv) a/n: to the anon that dropped this concept in my ask box, I hope you don’t mind that I took the idea and ran with it. I have so many drafts to finish but this just wouldn’t leave my mind. consider this as a thank you for all the amazing love you’ve poured me with lately, I love you guys so much!! lmk what you think of this!

Lando has an odd taste for trashy reality tv shows. He claims that he doesn’t, that he usually puts them on for background noise but he always ends up settling down on the nearest flattest surface; Eyes glued to the screen. It’s funny, it’s not something you’d expect and most of all, you don’t really mind it. Because he doesn’t care if you don’t pay any attention to it, as long as you’re either in his lap or spooning him.

He’d texted you earlier tonight and you hadn’t expected it, not really. You figured that after the long weekend in Belgium, he’d be ready to travel where the wind took him without any worry about the next weekend where he’d have to show off his best side and bring home a win for his team. Lando had talked about the Maldives and even Singapore, hinting at you coming with him but you’d been quick to shut him down, claiming that your life couldn’t be put on hold. Because it couldn’t.

But he’d gone home, spending exactly three hours with Max before the fucker abandoned him to hang out with his girlfriend and Lando was bored out of his mind when the flat got too quiet, so quiet that he could hear the neighbours flushing their toilets. Then you’d sent him a funny video of cats and Lando had responded with an ‘are you home?’ after laughing himself silly to the video.

That was three hours ago, he’d pressed a smacking kiss to your cheek when you’d opened the door for him, sniffing the air because he could clearly smell the bolognese that you’d made, giving you a look that you recognised so intimately. You’d seen the pleading look plenty of times in various situations, and now it was saying ‘can I please have whatever’s cooking in the kitchen?’ And who were you to deny him?

Lando had shovelled a plate and a half of spaghetti, moaning over how good it was and completely ignoring your rolling eyes of fond exasperation and a little shyness, and then the both of you had settled on your sofa on top of each other with Love Island playing in the background.

You were dozing, half conscious and absolutely not interested in what was going on, but Lando? Lando was enraptured, eyes shining with interest in the dark when you tilted your head up to look at him. The glow of the television cast pretty shadows on his face, the long eyelashes and the beard he’d decided to grow out on his upper lip and chin. It looked good on him. And better yet, it felt good on your sensitive skin. There had been too many times to count where he’d rub it raw and sore, between your legs so you couldn’t wear dresses and skirts in fear of your thighs rubbing together, or your face when he kissed you as deeply as he did.

You still remembered the time when you’d put on an excessive amount of lipbalm after a night of heavy petting, catching Max’s raised eyebrows across the table. He didn’t say anything, but he might as well could have with how expressive his eyes and face were. It was unnerving.

Lando sensed you shifting on his chest, peering down at you with his bushy eyebrows pulled together. It was dark, the television the only provider of light but you saw the confusion clear as day in his eyes as they flitted across your face, trying to gauge your facial expression.

“What?” He asked, hands halting where they’d been stroking up and down your back subconsciously. You immediately missed the soothing motion of them, having gotten quite used to the impromptu back massage.

“Nothin’.” You murmured, laying your head back down with your ear pressed to his chest.

The steady beat of his heart was like music to your ears, lulling you to a slow sleep that you could almost see on the horizon and Lando wasn’t making it any easier to stay awake with the way his hands were gently scratching your back with his blunt fingernails over your shirt. He knew you loved it, did it as often as he could.

You let out a pleased little hum when his hands found their way under your shirt, fingertips mapping out the bumps of your spine. Up, up, up, and then he stopped with a small noise in his throat.

It made you hide a smile into his hoodie, knowing exactly where his mind was going when his fingers travelled to either side of your back; Right where your bra strap would’ve went, if you were wearing one.

Lando clearly seemed pleased with his new discovery, heart thudding just a little harder under your ear as he shifted beneath you. You sucked in a quiet breath, looking up at him just in time for him to stare back.

“No bra, eh?” His lips pulled into a slow, playful smile that had you smiling, tongue in cheek. “Cheeky.”

“I never wear one around the house, twat.” You pointed out.

“Fair enough.” He nodded, tightening his arms around you to force you upwards on his chest, putting you face to face. “Hi.”

He blinked up at you, slowly, like sleep was on the doorstep and knocking. Lando looked tired but there was an underlying layer of lust in his eyes that you’d come to recognise. It never failed to send a thrill up your spine and it was what prompted you to close the small distance between the two of you, noses brushing against each other as he exhaled teasingly.

“Lando…” You frowned as you went to kiss him, only for him to pull away.

It didn’t escape you how whiny you sounded, but you hadn’t gotten laid in almost two weeks and he’d been sending you very suggestive photos and texts when he was away.

Never mind that you’d started it, firing off a photo with no additional text of your tits, knowing that he was most likely in a briefing with his team and there was a major chance that someone nearby would see the photo over his shoulder if he’d open it up without any warning.

But you didn’t care. It’s what made it fun, after all. Especially when he’d sent a series of exclamation and question marks, cursing you out for doing it so publicly.

“You’re so impatient, darling.” He tsked you, nipping your lower lip when you pushed forward in hopes of him kissing you.

You pouted until his face broke out into a smile, bringing a hand up to the back of your head; Fingers sliding into your hair for a grip as he finally pushed his lips against yours.

It was slow and chaste at first, a kiss to your upper lip before he sucked on the lower one, relishing in the stuttered exhale you released into his mouth. There was no denying that Lando was a good fucking kisser, ever so patient and passionate and it was only made evident when he pried your lips apart to taste your tongue. His hand spanned against your cheek, thumbing your chin to keep your mouth open as he licked into it. You could taste the faint spices of the food he’d had earlier, along with the sweetness of the bag of Squashies you kept in your pantry, only because he liked them. It was a heady mix.

You couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t erotic, that it didn’t make your toes curl and your spine tingle with all kinds of emotions when his tongue slid against yours so sensually. He truly took his time, loving on your lip and kissing you so thoroughly that you were out of breath and a little dazed by the time he pulled away. He thumbed your lower lip, his own smiling and pink, bitten raw.

Lando allowed the both of you a few seconds to catch your breaths, immediately going for another round but this time he dove straight in, kissing you deeply. It was when the both of you started to let out these breathy little moans against each other’s mouths and grinding slowly that Lando took action, sliding his other hand that had been idle on your back, down your spine and slipping into your shorts.

He felt the curve of your ass, his palm swallowing up your cheek as he grabbed it in a painfully delicious grip that had you grinding down against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your lips dropped open, moaning into his mouth when you felt his hardness press against your crotch. It relieved a little pressure off of you, but there was no denying that you were soaking and in need of more. More of Lando, more of his touch.

“Fuck, I love this arse.” He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth when his hand tightened on the flesh of your cheek, fingers no doubt bruising the skin. It felt amazing. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

You made a noise of protest against his cheek, where you’d been pressing your face against it, hands cupping his cheek.

“No,” you murmured against his mouth before kissing him. “No tasting, just need you inside me.”

Lando nodded gently, reaching a hand down to your shorts in a practiced motion to run his fingers gently between your folds. His eyes left yours to look at your crotch, jaw going slack at the wetness he found there and you whimpered when his wet finger touched your clit, circling it until you were squirming.

“Need you.” You murmured against his ear, pressing your face to the side of his and nudging your nose against his cheek.

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to because he was already slipping a finger into you; a second one joining him soon after. Lando stretched you out, feeling your warm breath against his cheek and hearing your poorly concealed moans of pleasure as he worked you, sounding a lot like heaven to his ears. He crooked his fingers and fucked you gently, thumb notching against your swollen bud just to hear your breathing pick up.

It was a telltale sign that you were close, hands clutching at his hoodie, right over his chest and it made his head dizzy how your legs were locking up around his hips the closer you got. He turned his head to find your lips, messily slotting them over your mouth and swallowing your high pitched groans as you came around his fingers.

Your body shook, hands flexing in their tight grip of his hoodie and Lando marvelled at the sighs and sounds you were making, letting you trap his bottom lip to suck on it. That one gesture made every ounce of blood rush to his cock, so fast that he almost went dizzy with it and he hurriedly pulled his fingers out of your tight clench, sliding his fingers into his mouth for a quick taste of your juices.

You made a small sound of protest, feeling boneless and too tired to chastise him for making such a show of it. He loved making you come on his fingers, loved it even more when he could suck the slick off of his digits because you’d always squeak in embarrassment and swat at him with your hands.

It took a lot of effort to adjust yourself on top of him, reaching your weak arms down between the two of you to pull at his shorts. Lando wasn’t much of a help, watching silently as you yanked his shorts down far enough to get his cock out. It was rigid, sticking up so lewdly and flushed pink and you licked your lips; craving to get your mouth on it.

But you were too tired, and Lando was clearly way too impatient to wait any longer as he pulled your shorts and underwear to the side, grabbing himself by the base to guide himself to your centre. You bit your lip, anticipating the burning stretch but he didn’t push in, sliding his length between your lips to slick himself up instead.

You opened your mouth to tell him to get on with it but the words died on your tongue along with your last brain cell when the head of his cock nudged your clit, making you shudder at the unexpected sensitivity.

“Fucking hell,” Lando cursed in a murmur, sounding dazed and not at all there.

Your eyes flickered up to him just in time to witness as he brought his other hand to his mouth, dribbling saliva onto the length of his fingers and bringing it back down to stroke his cock. It was lewd, so disgustingly hot and you had to have him right now.

Lando must’ve felt the same because he was finally moving, notching himself against your hole and waiting for your wordless consent that contained of a quick nod and a needy sound, before he raised his hips and pushed himself into you.

You responded with a keening sound, pushing your hips down and taking way more of him in the process than you were ready for. It burned, stretched to the limit with only spit and slick to help you take him, but you both had worked with less before.

And Lando knew how to read your body, knew that your fisted hands meant for him to pause, to breathe and let you get used to his size. It never got easier, there was so much thickness to him that could simultaneously bring so much pleasure, but also pain if you weren’t too careful.

A sadistic part of you loved it though. You loved feeling him for days after a good lay, would often rile him up to the point that he’d bend you over and fuck you silly.

Your skin still tingled when you thought of the early days of your arrangement, where you’d been at his place late at night. You’d played Call of Duty and gotten him so worked up that he shoved you down on the sofa, ass up and face down, pulling a bone shattering orgasm from you with the help of his sinful mouth before he fucked you so hard that you were drooling and muffling your moans into the cushions. It was a worthless effort though, Max had heard you and he’d made it clear during breakfast the next day.

“You good?” He asked, touching your chin with his thumb and you blinked, realising that you’d drifted someplace else completely.

You nodded slowly, holding his gaze as he pulled back and thrust forward, rattling your bones and pulling a moan from your lips. Your fingers ran through the hairs on the back of his head, pulling his face close to yours as he started fucking you slowly, reaching so deeply inside of you that the sensations made your eyes flutter and roll.

Lando had a hard time keeping his eyes open and on you, watching your mouth gap open and closed in unintelligible words and sharp gasps, eyelids fluttering shut. He kissed you when you started moving your hips against his, adjusting your positions so you were fully straddling him. It must’ve done something for you because you were suddenly pulling at his hair, his head going back with it and mouth going slack around a groan.

It put your mouth in level with his throat, thick and exposed, so pretty that you couldn’t help but suck bruises into the vulnerable skin.

You moved against each other, fucking slowly like you had all the time in the world, kissing and bruising each other up with the help of your hands and mouths.

Your friend’d had you in all different ways. Fast and hard, deep and bone rattling but this was his favourite. Lazy, slow and deep. Where he could feel every tight and warm crevice of you, feel you slicking him up the wetter you got.

Lando’s breaths grew deeper, groans becoming more guttural and you knew he was close to his climax; riding him just a bit harder to help him get there.

He slid both hands around your hips, slipping into your shorts and grabbing your cheeks in bruising handfuls with a moan; Needy and whimpering against your mouth and you kissed him harder in response.

His fingers slipped between your ass cheeks, and the slight touch to your hole took you by surprise, your body suddenly seizing up as you cried out your sudden climax. It was like the breath had been punched out of you, coming so hard on his cock that Lando had to stop the movements of his hips because the tightness became too restrictive.

The both of you grabbed at each other, mouth to mouth, stealing each others breath as Lando fucked up once, twice before he released a guttural moan; shooting off into you.

You could feel him inside, feeling all too sensitive and absolutely exhausted from your orgasm to do anything but take it. Lando was giving off these small moans, gasping like he couldn’t breathe properly and it was only when he started shuddering from oversensitivity that you attempted to get off of him.

He slid out easily, cock wet as you dripped with him and it was such a filthy sight that you couldn’t help but flush warmth all over.

You knew that you’d have to get up eventually and shower, feeling disgusting and entirely too warm to stay wrapped in each other. But Lando wasn’t ready to let you go yet, and neither were you, to be honest. You let him wrap you up in his arms, nuzzling his face into your throat and exhaling tiredly.

“That was exactly what I needed.” He murmured hoarsely into your throat.

You hid a smile into his damp curls, cupping the side of his face and bringing his head up to face you. He blinked, squinting eyes and blown out pupils, and you thought that he’d never looked as good as he did now. So relaxed with no worry in the world.

It was hard to refrain from kissing him, pushing small kisses to his cheeks and one to his lips that he tiredly responded too. It was like it took way too much energy to move his lips, and it made you smile when he whined.

“Can you carry me to bed?” He asked and you reached your fingers up to pinch the tip of his nose.

“Absolutely not.” You wiggled on top of him, pulling a strangled sigh from his lips. “We need a wash first, and you’ve got a lot of work to do.”

That made him crack an eye open to stare at you in confusion.

“Work?” He frowned.

“You came in me, you’ll get it out.” You said, like it was obvious.

Lando’s eyes narrowed, “You’re the one who likes it.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

His hand came down on your ass cheek, the slap hard enough to make you jump with a yelp. You glared at him with no real malice, ignoring the spike of heat that the unexpected pain sent up your spine because now was not the time to delve deeper into your interests of pain.

“You didn’t have to.” He said, matching your defiant tone of voice now. “Your body said it all, baby.”

You faked a gag, moving to roll off of him and he let you go without any fight.

“You’re gross. Get out of my flat.”

Lando cackled, making a poor attempt at sitting up on the sofa. You watched him struggle for moment, trying not to smile in amusement at the way his hair was all messy, curls wild and unruly.

“I’ll help you out,” He said and you knew there was a catch coming, judging by the tone of his voice. “If I can go down on you.”

You grimaced, as if the thought of him licking you clean didn’t make you clench. It wasn’t really a normal occurrence, but it did happen on rare occasions. Lando was a lot filthier in bed than you’d originally thought, and discovering his kinks had been an adventure so far.

“Oh, fine.” You sighed with a flourish, like you were doing him a favour rather than the opposite. “But you have to wash my hair first.”

You had your back turned to him now, walking in the direction of your bathroom but you could almost hear Lando’s exasperated eye roll, making you a hide a smile as you pushed the bathroom door open.

“Blow me.” He muttered.

“Maybe I will.” You teased.

Lando gave you no time to turn around, crowding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso to bring you flush against him. The sharpness of his teeth on your shoulder made you squeal with a giggle, squirming in his hold but he was too strong.

“Come on then,” He pressed his face to the side of your neck and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Get your ass in there, I want to get my mouth on you before you start dripping.”

You’d never moved faster than you did.

[rafesapologist]

the set up — rafe cameron

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀): angst, cussing, mentions of alcohol use, some mentions of violence

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: she's a bit of a long one so bare with me. there will likely be a part two!

It was 9 o'clock at night and your phone was abnormally barren and noiseless. Nightfall was creeping up on you before you knew it, distracted by the long day of galavanting at the chateau with your best friends'. On a typical day, by the time the sun was setting your boyfriend, Rafe, was eager to call you and maunder about his day. It never mattered what his schedule consisted of, whether it was golfing with topper and kelce, or working with his dad, he made it a part of his routine just to call you and hear your voice before the day was over.

However, this night was different. It was unusual for Rafe to not at least shoot you a text letting you know he wouldn't be calling for a bit, something he usually did when he was busy. Perhaps he was caught up in family matters with his dad and couldn't get to the phone? You thought. But it was still out of character for him not to find a way to contact you, even if it costed him being scorned by his dad.

You sat cross-legged at the foot of your bed, pondering. You began to feel an itching urge to text him and ask if everything was okay, but you hated feeling pushy and your pride was always one to get the best of you in most situations. The idea of texting Sarah soon came to mind and seemed like the best route to take without disturbing your boyfriend in the chance that he genuinely was extremely busy and couldn't get to the phone. You unlocked your phone and went straight to the iMessage app, immediately finding Sarah's contact and beginning to type out a quick message. But, before you hit send, your body began to feel hot and your hands went clammy. Your mind was beginning to get the best of you as it started to race with unnerving thoughts that clouded over your prior hopefulness. Despite how close you were with Sarah, you feared that if you were to ask her what Rafe was up to, she'd become aggravated at your nosiness. But by the growing hour, the urge to find out became overwhelming.

Your fingers shakily typed out a short, to-the-point message followed by them instantly hitting send.

*Y/N: hey, i haven't heard from rafe all day and i'm getting a little worried tbh. is everything okay??*

Your eyes flickered over the delivered message for what felt like a million times as you found it harder to sit still with the nimiety of anxiety coursing through your veins. Your foot tapped vigorously while you bit at your brittle nails. You couldn't seemed to get past the thought of something bad happening to the boy you loved so deeply, and the mere cogitation of the scenario made you feel sick to your stomach.

*SARAH: hey! that's odd. i have no idea, i haven't heard from anyone. maybe stop by my house and see what he's doing? i know wheezie is there, she'll let you in :)*

You breathed out a sigh of relief at her response, thanking the girl mentally for providing you some sort of response, although clarity was not fully provided and the answer as to what was up with Rafe still remained undetermined. But Sarah's message was enough solace to muster up the strength to head over to the Cameron's household, hoping with everything inside of you that your boyfriend was in there. Enough time had passed to where you didn't even care if it was just him ignoring your texts, you just needed to know if he was alright.

After a brief interval of stalling out of pure apprehension, you finally coaxed yourself into driving over to the Cameron's estate. Your legs sped down the stairs hurriedly, making your way passed the coat rack as you snatched the car keys off of it before sprinting out the front door without acknowledging your parents who watched you exit the house with an alarming haste. Their attempts to call out to you and ask where you were going went ignored as you were too focused on one specific thing - Rafe. You wanted to get to him, you needed to get to him.

The fifteen minute drive felt like two hours as you sped to your boyfriend's house, so eager to locate him that you barely realized the speed that you were going down residential areas. But you couldn't care less about anything else than the boy that was prominent in your mind, the one that you spent nearly every single day and night with over the last six months; some of the best in your life so far. Tears begin to prick at your eyes as you gave attention to the thought of losing Rafe, hating how vulnerable and manic you felt in that moment during the drive. Memories of the boy flooded through your thoughts, ones of him holding you as close as he possibly could while you two fell asleep entangled in one another, peppering soft kisses on your face and neck during early mornings just to wake you up because he knew how much you despised getting up before noon, and all the times he would go out of way just to make you happy. Everything about your relationship with Rafe was perfect, regardless of how much your friends' hated the fact that you were together, considering he was at the top of their enemy list.

Once the visual of the enormous white mansion came into view, your heart began to feel as if it was going to pop right out of your chest. Your foot nearly slammed into the floorboard as you raced onto the property's driveway, wasting no time to put the car in park and scurry up the steps that led to the front porch. With three swifts knocks at the door, you were quickly met with the familiar face of the beloved youngest Cameron sibling, Wheezie.

"Y/n! What are you doing here?" Wheezie questioned, a vaunting smile present on her freckled face.

"Hey Wheeze, have you seen Rafe anywhere? I haven't heard from him all day." You confessed timidly while you attempted to keep a calm composure around the adolescent girl, fearing that you'd alarm her if you expressed your true state of distress.

A noticeable frown grew on Wheezie's face in response to your inquiry, which automatically planted a nauseous feeling at the pit of your stomach. Her eyes averted from your gaze and fell to the ground in avoidance to your burning gaze of worry, "Rafe is.. In the kitchen. He got home a few minutes ago, but I feel like I should warn you before you go see him." She admitted diffidently with her stare still pinned at the ground just before your feet.

"What is it, Wheezie?" You catechized due to her visible hesitancy, a state you had only seen the young girl in once when she witnessed Rafe in a yelling match with is dad, one that nearly resulted in him hitting Ward straight in the face.

"He doesn't look very good, Y/n. When he came home he.. He looked like he was on something and he had blood on him. His eyes were all bloodshot, too. I've never seen him this angry before, I think something happened. I don't know what's gotten into him." Wheezie admitted hastily, displaying a sense of urgency that sent goosebumps across your chilled body.

"Okay, okay, it's alright, Wheeze. Just listen to me," you crouched down to meet her height, gripping onto her shoulders with a light squeeze, "go upstairs and close your door. Turn a movie on or play some music, yeah? Just promise me you'll stay in there until I come get you, okay?" You asserted earnestly with your first priority to remove the innocent girl who had fear plastered all over her face. She simply nodded in reply to your request, wasting no time before turning around and heading up the stairs. You waited until you heard the sound of a door closing before stepping foot into the household, your feet feeling like a ton of bricks as you approached the kitchen with caution.

Upon entrance, you were met with the sight of an extremely disheveled Rafe, worse than you had ever seen him before. His eyes were glossy and accompanied with a bloody red appearance over his scleras. Your eyes trailed down to the noticeable blood splatters stained onto his grey polo, an observtion that took the air out of your lungs and your mouth go dry.

"Rafe?" You mousily called out to the fretful boy that was pacing the kitchen while he ran his fingers through his hair in distress. The sound of your soft voice cause his body to come to a halt, freezing in place with his back still turned to you. The sound of a dry, menacing laugh erupted from your boyfriend's throat that broke the defeaning silence in the air. Your eyebrows furrowed, sensing that his hostility may be aimed at you.

"What do you want?" Rafe subtly scoffed in response, still refusing to turn around and look at you.

"I came to make sure you were okay," you spoke up with a timorous voice, "I was worried cause I haven't heard from you." You folded your arms as you stood in place, displaying an evidence lack of confidence in your body language.

"As if you care." He spun around which took you by surprise, getting a better look at the state of disarray he was truly in. The bags under his eyes painted a deep shade of bluish-purple as though he hadn't slept in the last 24 hours. To make matters worse, dried blood was present on his mouth and chin, seemingly from the laceration of an open wound on his bottom lip. You shivered once you noticed how his normally soft features were replaced with a look of anger and resentment.

"What are you talking about? You know how much I care about you, Rafe." You stated, defending your point as he seemed to question your fidelity towards him.

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n! Haven't you lied to me enough? Aren't you tired of keeping up with all these lies?" Rafe squinted his eyes down at you, pointing at you in an accusatory manner that made you flinch. He had never been aggressive with you, far from it. Truth be told, it frightened you to see him like this, especially with the stench of alcohol exuding from him potently.

"Rafe.." you squeaked, feeling small and powerless under his tall stature, "You're scaring me. I don't know what you're talking about. You need to calm-"

"Our whole relationship has been a fucking lie, Y/n! Even down to the moment we met, you and your little piece of shit Pogue friends had this all planned out. I bet you've told them every single thing I've told you, I fucking trusted you! I should've known you Pogues were no good. All you guys do is stick your noses in places they don't belong." Rafe spat at you causing you to stumble back from him some, your back hitting the wall as he cornered you against the wall.

"You can thank your beloved 'friend' JJ for telling me. Boy's got a mouth on him," Rafe snickered as he shook his head in disbelief as he recounted his interaction with the blond Pogue, "ran into him at the golf course and he was running his mouth as usual. Guess I pissed him off so much that he blurted your guys' whole plan out, trying to get a reaction out of me or whatever. Got the shit beat out of him instead." He snarled.

Tears formed in your eyes at the revelation of Rafe finding out about the foolish plan you and your friends came up with months ago. They were always suspicious of the unpredictable Kook, rightfully so, but their mistake was setting you up to gain the rapport of the unknowing boy, who couldn't help but to melt at the sight of you. It was an easy operation, with Rafe falling under your spell within the first three weeks of meeting. But, what they didn't anticipate was you falling for him just as much.

He scoffed again, interrupting your fit of choking sobs, "No, don't cry. Do not stand here with that look on your face like you're the victim in this. You have no idea, y/n, no idea what it did to me when I heard that, and from all people, JJ fucking Maybank."

"Rafe, please-"

"Stop! Stop," Rafe's voice began to break as his words trembled in sorrow, tears escaping his azure eyes, "I loved you, y/n. So much. Never in my life have I opened up to someone, gave someone so much, as I have to you. Every damn day I woke up, only wanting to talk to you. You were always the first thing on my mind, first thing in the morning, last thing at night. You.. You were everything to me, and to think this whole time it's been some fucking sick game to you. Running back to your worthless Pogue friends that are nothing but trouble. How could I be so stupid? Trusting a fucking Pogue like you." His words put wounds in your chest and tore at your heart from the pure hatred for you that exuded from them. You never imagined you'd be at the other end of Rafe's spiteful outbursts at the end of it all, but there you were, looking up at him with a cold look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Rafe. I'm sorry, okay? I know that doesn't fix this but I didn't plan for this to happen. I told them it would only be a month and I would be done, but then I fell in love with you. I didn't spend all that time with you because of them. Our agreement was only-"

"Our agreement," he scoffed at your words, "do you hear yourself? You're unbelievable. You think that makes me feel better? Oh, you were only supposed to manipulate me for a month? How generous of you." Rafe mocked back at you, the high levels of alcohol in his system causing him to slur his words some.

"I-I know, I know that nothing I say will make this better. I know that you'll never trust me and you'll hate me forever after this, but I'm so sorry, Rafe. I didn't mean for this to happen." You looked up at him with sincerity, a pleading look in your eyes.

"I don't hate you. That's the fucking problem." He muttered.

"What?" You questioned, confused at his admission.

"I don't hate you, y/n. Believe me, I wish I could right now, but I don't. You think after everything we've been through that I could just hate you like that? That easy? Y/n, you're the love of my life. Don't you get that? I wouldn't be in the state I'm in right now if I didn't love you. I don't know what to do, and I'm at a war with myself because one part of me needs you, and the other can't even stand to look you in the eyes right now." Rafe sighed as he combed a hand through his dirty blond hair. His harsh demeanor was beginning to slip as his features softened and was replaced with an appearance of sadness and void. It was clear that the boy was completely shattered, and it broke your heart. Your mind began racing in that moment, unsure of really what to do in order to comfort the heartbroken boy. Do you leave him be and rip the bandaid off? Was that too cold of you to do? Or were you supposed to hold him and tell him that everything was going to be alright, despite the uncertainty that things would be.

"Rafe.." Your words trailed off as you watched Rafe's bloody lip begin to tremble. He closed his glossy eyes at the sweet sound of your voice, only hurting him more to realize that he'd miss that beautiful noise. He hated how much he craved you, how much he needed you, because he told himself a million times than he could never trust you again after JJ's confession. But he couldn't bring himself to push you away, although you put him in the position he was in. Hurting him worse than anyone has in his entire life.

"I don't wanna think about it right now, okay? I can't.. I can't stand the thought of waking up without you, y/n. I mean call me fucking crazy, but fucking hell, I still love you. I don't know what's wrong with me." Your boyfriend broke down in sobs, tears streaming down his bruised face.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Rafe. You didn't deserve this." You shook your head at his insecurity, assuring him that none of this was on him.

"Please stay with me tonight, we can talk about this in the morning or whatever, but please." Rafe pleaded, looking down at you with a pitiful look on his face that made your heart swell. His hand was placed at your waist, with a fistful of your shirt in his grip, pleading to your with full sincerity.

"Of course I will."

[rationaliity]

found family | astral express

self indulgent found family astral express story literally no plot its just them all being silly as they welcome you, the newcomer, onto the astral express and you realize that maybe they're more like a family than you expected originally

the astral express was a family. this was something that you weren't expecting when you joined them. they each have their own agendas, their own lives, why would they worry about each other ? they just traveled with each other, which didn't constitute a family in your eyes.

you were scared when you first came to the astral express, and you needed a place to stay. " just until you could get back on your feet " you told gray haired woman in front of you, although your voice had been shaky because you were crying so much. she didn't say much, just told you that she would talk to the others on the express, and that they would talk about it.

a few hours later, you're boarding the astral express, with many unfamiliar faces staring back at you. as they introduce themselves to you, you try to remember everyone there, but there's so many names and so much information about each of them, you honestly have a hard time remembering the details.

there's the two older members on the express, himeko and welt yang. himeko has a calm but commanding voice, much like a fierce protective mother would have, and you can't help but feel calm in her presence. welt yang is softer around his edges, with a gentler tone of voice, but everyone on the express clearly respects him and his opinions, like his words held weight to him.

the other four were younger than welt and himeko and had been trailblazing for a shorter amount of time. there was march 7th, a chatty but easily irritated girl with plenty of opinions that she wasn't afraid to say, something you deeply admired from her. dan heng, who's silence was born not out of contempt or dislike, but because of what he has witnessed in the world. you understood him maybe a little better than you wanted to let on.

then there was the siblings, stelle and caelus, though they seemed perfectly content just to be called anything else, too. they both seemed perfectly fine with the nickname ' intergalactic baseballer ' which earned a little chuckle from you. they were both quiet, with stelle giving off a more cool and deadpan personality to caelus' naturally silly one, although they were both incredibly funny. they'd been travelling with the express for a lot less than everyone else, meaning they were the last two trailblazers that had been picked up from the express before you.

and now, there was you. no matter what your story was, they let you on the express so willingly, bringing you into their arms like you had always been there. it unnerved you.

" make yourself comfortable, please, " himeko's voice tore through your thoughts, and you realized you'd just been standing there at the entrance staring at everyone trying to decipher what they wanted from you.

" oh, uh, yeah, " you stuttered out finally, moving in between dan heng and march 7th to sit down on the parlor chairs, folding your legs underneath you to sit crisscrossed. almost immediately as your butt hit the plushness, did march 7th bound up to you, sitting right next to you.

" we're gonna be warp jumping to another world soon ! it's a little hard to get a hang of it at first, so make sure to brace yourself whenever the conductor gives you the warning ! " she explained, her cheerfulness breaching through your defenses, especially when she tacked on afterwards, " i'm going to see if i can stand up during the jump ! you know, balance ! "

" march, have you considered that your unwanted advances towards friendship may just be that ? unwanted ? " dan heng criticized, but you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a little giggle, covering your face with your hands at the two of them.

" she gottem, " caelus pointed out, earning a brief little nod from stelle.

" gotta try harder at being friendless than that, " stelle agreed in a dry voice despite her silly words, and you really noticed how the twins bounced off each other, like they were one full person together and only half when they were apart.

mr. yang's voice was gentle as he spoke to the five of you, warm and gentle as he regarded you. " i have a feeling that you're going to enjoy the astral express. "

" have you seen the express so full ? " himeko asked, as if she were finally taking in that there were a crew of nameless now, and not just a bunch of ragtag adventurers that had made their home the express together.

" oh, do you wanna hear stories about the astral express crew ? you know, to get an idea of what we're like ? " march asked, her intense gaze boring into yours, as if willing you to just nod a little bit so she could show off her pictures and tell you stories from each one.

" sure, " you agreed, finding yourself almost excited to learn more than just the basics from each of these people. march jumped up immediately, running towards her room and grabbing stacks of photos before plopping down right next to you again. by the time she came back, dan heng had taken a seat on your other side, albeit a bit farther away.

caelus and stelle were still standing side by side, while mr. yang and himeko decided to sit in front of you all on the other side of the parlor, likely giving you space but ready to chime in when it came to their own stories.

march sat a picture on your lap of a man with blue dragon horns and glowing eyes, separating the waters of a world that you didn't recognize. " march, " dan heng's voice sounded like he was ready to complain. " why is this the first one that you showed ? "

" because it was the first in the stack ! i don't know what to tell you, dan heng ! " march shrugged animatedly, before turning back to the picture on your lap, " that's dan heng ! apparently he's the descendant of a dragon race of the xianzhou luofu, or something like that ! "

" oh.. wow ! " you exclaimed, doing a double take at dan heng now versus what he looked like in the picture. longer hair, different clothing, but still the same piercing gaze that he had now, determination etched onto his features like it was a part of him.

" it's a little more complicated than that, " dan heng shook his head, reaching over and taking the picture from your lap. " and now, this picture is mine. "

" what ?! that's not fair at all, dan heng ! "

" he just wants to admire himself, " caelus quipped, chuckling to himself. stelle's face broke into a small smile, but she didn't say anything back.

" fine, you can keep it, dan heng, " march sighed in resignation, " besides, these are just copies. all of my photos are still stored on my actual camera. " she shuffled through the pictures one by one, absentmindedly telling you about them as she sat them on your lap, but she was clearly looking for something.

" this is the big boss we fought in the xianzhou luofu, this is a picture of the general, this is a teacher that stelle met in her journey, this is a bunch of herta's puppets from the space station in the same area and it looked really freaky so i just had to take a picture ! here's a picture of mr. yang subduing the stellaron inside of caelus' body, and i remember being very confused because once caelus was knocked out, stelle passed out at the same time, too. weird. oh ! there's a bunch of pictures of how the dreamscape looked in penacony. oh, here ! "

with a little over twenty pictures already sat in your lap as she shuffled through the stack she had, you were finally given one picture of the four trailblazers, excluding welt and himeko. " we need to have one with mr. yang and himeko, but this is the four of us when we went on our first trailblazing expedition with stelle and caelus to jarilo-xi ! " she explained.

" why don't we take a picture of all of us now ? " himeko suggested on the other side of the parlor.

" i believe we can have pompom take the picture for us, if the conductor is willing, " welt looked over to the conductor. no one had told you yet what the conductor actually was, but you had a feeling that you shouldn't really ask such a question out loud, so you left your curiosity for another day.

" what ?! pompom has to take the picture ? fine, but pompom wants a picture with everyone, too ! " they grabbed the camera that march was extending out to them, and backed up towards the end of the parlor car. " everyone, get together now ! "

you stood up, practically ushered by march as you found yourself in the middle of the picture, squished in between caelus and stelle on your right, with stelle being a little forward so there was enough room, and dan heng on your left. march stood sort of in between you and dan heng but just in front of you, since she was shorter than dan heng, and welt and himeko stood behind the five of you. you felt a hand gently resting on your shoulder, and you looked up behind you to see welt giving you a small smile.

" you're doing great, " he praised softly, under his breath so only you could hear. " welcome to the astral express. "

as the picture was snapped, you couldn't help but think that you really would enjoy this time with your new family. it was an odd experience, sure, but not one unwelcome. the astral express really was like a family, and they were embracing you with open arms.

[wendsky]

seen part 2

wednesday addams x shapeshifter!fem!reader

after wednesday catches reader shapeshifting, they slowly build a bond together.

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Over the next few days, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. It wasn’t a paranoid delusion. Wednesday had made it more than clear that she was interested in your abilities. True to her word, she seemed to appear at the most unexpected times.

You would catch glimpses of her in class, her dark eyes flicking in your direction before returning to her work. Sometimes, in the hallway, she would pass by without a word, but you could feel her attention on you, as if she were waiting for something.

At first, it unnerved you. You had spent so long keeping your abilities hidden, and now someone as sharp and observant as Wednesday was paying attention to you. It was unsettling, but at the same time... it was exciting, thrilling even.

No one had ever been interested in you before. Not like this. Not like her.

And as the days went on, you found yourself growing more comfortable with her presence. You didn’t shift in front of her again, not yet but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. She was intrigued by your abilities, and in return, you were intrigued by her.

Wednesday Addams wasn’t like anyone you had ever met. She was dark, intense, and deeply intelligent. There was a sharpness to her, a coldness that kept others at a distance, but for some reason, you didn’t mind it. In fact, you found it... fascinating.

You had always preferred to be alone, but now, for the first time, you were curious about someone else. Curious about the way Wednesday thought, the way she saw the world. And, it seemed, she was curious about you too.

One afternoon, you found yourself alone in the school library, flipping through an old book on the history of shapeshifters. You had always been fascinated by your own kind, though you rarely talked about it with anyone. The stories in the book were familiar to you, legends of shapeshifters who could change into anything or anyone, using their abilities to deceive, to hide, to protect.

You were so absorbed in the book that you didn’t notice Wednesday approach until she was standing beside your table, her presence sending a chill down your spine.

“Researching on your own kind?” she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet.

You looked up, startled, and quickly closed the book. “Just... just reading.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the subject. Instead, she slid into the chair across from you, her dark eyes never leaving yours.

“I’ve been thinking about your abilities,” she said after a moment. “They’re impressive. But I wonder... have you ever used them for more than just hiding?”

Her question caught you off guard. It wasn’t something you had ever considered. For as long as you could remember, your shapeshifting had been a tool for survival, for blending in. You had never thought of using it for anything more.

“I've never... “I’ve never really thought about it that way.” You admitted, your voice quiet.

Wednesday leaned forward slightly, her gaze intense. “You could do so much more with them. You could become anyone. Influence people. Gather information. The possibilities are endless.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. She wasn’t wrong. The power of shapeshifting was immense, but you had always been too afraid to fully embrace it.

“You don’t have to hide, you know,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “You’re stronger than you think.”

There was something in her tone—something almost... encouraging. It was the closest thing to a compliment you had ever heard from her, and it made your heart race.

For the first time, you began to wonder if maybe she was right. Maybe you didn’t have to hide anymore. Maybe, with her by your side, you could become something more than just a shy, lonely shapeshifter.

Maybe, with Wednesday Addams, you could be extraordinary.

As the weeks passed, your interactions with Wednesday became more frequent. She would seek you out during lunch, sitting across from you in silence, her presence both comforting and intimidating. Occasionally, she would ask about your abilities, her curiosity never waning.

And slowly, you began to open up to her. You showed her more of what you could do—small shifts at first, subtle changes in your appearance. But each time, she watched with an intensity that sent a thrill through you.

It wasn’t long before you started to feel something else—a pull, a connection between the two of you that went beyond mere curiosity. There was something deeper there, something unspoken but undeniable.

Wednesday, for her part, never spoke of emotions or feelings. That wasn’t her way. But you could see it in the way she looked at you, the way her gaze lingered a little longer each time you shifted. She was fascinated by you, and in turn, you were captivated by her.

One evening, as the sun set over the dark towers of Nevermore, you found yourself standing on one of the balconies, the cool breeze ruffling your hair. You had been practicing again, shifting between faces, testing the limits of your abilities.

And once again, Wednesday appeared.

She stood beside you, her hands clasped behind her back, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with an understanding that didn’t require words.

“You’ve grown more confident,” she said after a while, her voice low.

You glanced at her, surprised. “I guess... I have.”

She turned to face you, her dark eyes locking onto yours. “You’re not like the others.”

There was something in her voice, something that made your heart skip a beat. You had never felt more seen, more understood, than in that moment.

Before you could respond, she reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm. The touch was brief, barely there, but it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through you.

“Don’t hide from who you are,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Embrace it.”

Her words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. And in that moment, you realized that Wednesday Addams wasn’t just interested in your abilities—she was interested in you.

The night was still, the moon casting a pale glow over the courtyard as you stood with Wednesday, the cool autumn air wrapping around you like a shroud. The two of you had been spending more time together lately, your once-guarded walls slowly crumbling under the weight of her presence.

You hadn’t expected to grow so close to her. She was an enigma, a puzzle that you couldn’t quite solve, and yet... you were drawn to her in a way you couldn’t explain.

As the weeks passed, your relationship with Wednesday deepened. What had started as curiosity on her part had grown into something more—a bond, a connection that neither of you could deny. She was fascinated by your abilities, yes, but there was something deeper there. Something unspoken.

You found yourself opening up to her in ways you never had with anyone else. She made you feel seen, understood in a way that no one ever had before. And slowly, you began to let go of the fear that had kept you hidden for so long.

One evening, as the two of you sat together in the library, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls, Wednesday spoke.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “About your abilities. About how you could use them.”

You looked at her, curiosity piqued. “Use them for what?”

She met your gaze, her dark eyes filled with a rare intensity. “To be more than you are now. To embrace who you truly are.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. You had always been content with blending in, with hiding in the shadows. But Wednesday was offering you something more—something you had never considered.

“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

She leaned closer, her gaze never wavering. “I can help you.”

There was a promise in her words, a vow that sent your heart racing.

Wednesday’s words hung in the air, filling the dimly lit library with an intensity that left your chest tight. The thought of embracing your abilities fully, stepping out of the shadows and using your shapeshifting for something more, terrified you—and yet, there was an undeniable allure in her offer.

She leaned back in her chair, her face unreadable as always, but you could sense the quiet determination behind her words. Wednesday wasn’t someone who made idle promises. If she said she could help you, she meant it.

But what did that help entail? What exactly did she have in mind?

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “How?”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Wednesday’s lips, a rare expression that made your pulse quicken. She stood up slowly, her black dress flowing around her like liquid night as she turned toward the tall bookshelves.

“You’ve spent your life hiding,” she said, her voice calm but pointed. “You’ve been made to feel content in blending in, to keep your abilities locked away, only using them when no one is watching. But... you’re capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Wednesday cut you off, her dark eyes sharp as they flicked back to you.

“I’ve watched you. I’ve seen the way you shift into different personas, adopting confidence you don’t believe you have. You’re testing the waters, trying on masks like costumes, but you haven’t truly stepped into your power. Not yet.”

Her words were like a mirror, reflecting truths you’d never fully acknowledged. She was right. You used your shapeshifting as a shield, a way to protect yourself from the world’s judgment, but deep down, you knew you were capable of more. You just didn’t know how to access it—how to be that version of yourself.

“And you think you can help me do that?” you asked, your voice softer than you intended.

Wednesday’s gaze was unwavering, her eyes gleaming with something that felt almost like... anticipation. “I know I can.”

She walked toward you with slow, deliberate steps, stopping just in front of your chair. You looked up at her, your heart pounding as her presence seemed to fill the space around you. She reached out, her cold fingers gently lifting your chin so that your eyes met hers.

“Trust me,” she whispered, her voice low, intimate. “Let me show you what you’re capable of.”

There was something magnetic about her, something that made you want to say yes, even though every instinct you had screamed to keep your walls up. But in that moment, with her standing so close, her dark eyes locked onto yours, you realized you didn’t *want* to hide anymore. Not from her.

“I trust you,” you said, the words escaping before you could second-guess yourself.

A faint, satisfied smile crossed Wednesday’s lips before she dropped her hand and took a step back. “Good.”

a/n: next will be the final chapter, almost done with it so stay tuned

[charliedawn]

I think you said you were open to requests, so I have an idea. So the slashers absolutely adore Nurse right so what if something happened and, nurse somehow ended up taking care of a teen like this 13 year old is just following them around, how would the slashers all react? Especially if this kid is very protective of nurse

Pennywise & Penny

Pennywise: He’s not the biggest fan of kids, but seeing one so fiercely protective of Nurse might make him pause. He’d be sarcastic about it, probably calling the teen a “mini bodyguard” or throwing out comments like, “You think you can protect them from me ?” He might try to scare the kid just for fun, but would back off if you gave him a look. After all, he respects you too much to push you too far—not that he’d even tell you. But, you should be careful about leaving him with the teen…just saying. Still a cannibal.

Penny: Penny would find the whole situation hilarious. He’d laugh every time the teen tries to step in or “protect” you. Penny might try to poke fun at the kid, but in a less malicious way than Pennywise. He’d probably view the teen as your weird little sidekick and would love the added chaos of this new dynamic.

Penny *giggles* : "Nurse Y/N and Tiny human ! Hello…"

But I repeat. And that goes especially for the clown brothers. NEVER leave them with a child.

Jack Torrance

Jack would find the situation deeply amusing. The teen's protectiveness might remind him of his own paternal instincts—before things went downhill in the Overlook Hotel. He might view the kid as a challenge, saying things like, “You’ve got guts, kid, but you’ll have to do better than that.” Jack would respect your bond with the teen but might still test the kid’s bravery with some unnerving behavior, like his signature wide-eyed, grinning face or random bursts of fury. But if he thinks that the kid is pushing it too far or keeping you away from him ? That’s when things would go south real quick…

Jack *stares at the kid* : "You know, kid. I tried to be nice. I really did. But I really gotta talk to your mommy/daddy and if you keep getting in my way ? Am gonna blow a fuse. And believe me…You won’t like me when I am angry."

Freddy Krueger

Freddy would be relentless. He’d immediately start mocking the kid, calling them “Nurse Y/N’s little guard dog” and making snide remarks. He’s all about exploiting fear, and a kid being so protective of someone like you would be a goldmine for him. However, if the teen was unfazed or even brave in the face of Freddy’s taunts, he’d probably back off, grumbling something about how “kids these days just aren’t as scared anymore.” If you gave Freddy a warning, he'd stop and sulk but still find ways to poke fun at the teen.

Freddy *snickers as he grabs the teen from behind* : "Gotya ! Not so tough when Nurse Y/N ain’t around to protect ya, huh ?"

Michael Myers

Michael wouldn’t react much at all. He’s a silent observer, and the presence of a protective teen wouldn’t change his behavior. However, if the teen tried to physically stop him or get in his way, Michael wouldn’t hesitate to plow right through them. He’s single-minded, so the kid’s protectiveness wouldn’t stop him from going after his target, but your presence could potentially sway him. If you seemed to care about the teen, he might pause or shift focus, but only because of his odd, silent respect for you. He’d even come to respect the kid eventually once he’d understand that they are just as attached to you as the slashers are.

Norman Bates

Norman would be deeply conflicted. The presence of a kid so protective of you would probably awaken his more nurturing side, while also reminding him of his own psychological issues. He’d be anxious and awkward around the teen, especially if the kid’s protectiveness made him feel inferior in your eyes. “Mother” might view the teen as competition for your attention, which could lead to an internal struggle for Norman. He’d be polite to the kid but would probably grow increasingly agitated if the teen got between him and you too often.

Norman *smiles as he sees you and bends forward to tilt your chin up* : "Hello, my little monster. Long time no see…"

Norman feels someone kick his leg and looks down to see the teen—throwing kicks at him.

Teen: "Stay away from my mom/dad !"

Norman *his smile falters and Mommy Bates takes over* : "~Sweet child…Someone ought to teach you manners. My Norman cares about your mom/dad very much and if you keep them apart for too long, I might remind you how we used to teach children in my time…"

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms would be jealous, plain and simple. He’s possessive, and the idea of someone else, even a kid, getting too close to you would trigger his need to control. He’d watch the teen suspiciously, probably from behind walls or through peepholes, just waiting for an excuse to undermine the kid’s protectiveness. If you showed more affection toward the teen than him, Brahms might become passive-aggressive, doing little things to try and regain your attention. He’d likely view the teen as competition for your care and affection.

Brahms and Teen both hugging you : "MINE !"

Jason Voorhees

Jason would be indifferent to the teen's protectiveness at first. Like Michael, he’s relentless and doesn’t let emotions or relationships change his course. The teen’s protectiveness might momentarily confuse Jason, but he wouldn’t stop unless you physically intervened. If you expressed that the kid was important to you, Jason might pause or divert his attention elsewhere, as he tends to have a strange, underlying sense of empathy, especially when it comes to children or those he views as vulnerable. Otherwise, the kid's presence wouldn’t sway him.

However…if he felt that the kid was an obstacle ? Well…

Teen *glaring at Jason* : "Mine."

Jason *glaring back and responding in sign language* : "Mine. First."

[pitchsidestories]

searching for hope II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 3426

a/n: hi, it's inspired by this request here, we hope you like it despite the heavy topic.

warnings: career ending injury, sadness, but with a fluffy ending

Suddenly, the whole Estadi Johan Cruyff fell silent when they heard your scream echoing against the walls of the Barca femeni’s home. Everyone who saw you sink to the ground after a bad tackle from your opponent turned pale.

Yes, the tackle from the other player was bad, but what was more unnerving in their eyes was the way you hold on to your knee. This was always a bad sign and something people who followed women’s football grew all too familiar with over the past years. It sends a shiver down the spine of the home fans and your beloved teammates.

It has been an ordinary league game so far, it wasn’t an important one, your team was already leading with three goals and yet you found yourself laying on the pitch. The pain your body was in felt almost unbearable.

“Hey! Don’t move!”, Lucy yelled, looking deeply worried at you while she knelt beside you, taking a hand of yours in hers. Your girlfriend normally tried to keep your relationship as private as possible, but her concern for you threw the normal behaviour out of the window.

“Lucy?”, you mumbled, the tears streaming down your face made your vision turn blurry, but you would always recognize your lover’s voice.

“They’re getting the stretcher.”, Lucy informed you calmy, from the outside the English woman might still look like her professional, tough self, but inside she was falling apart. Seeing you in this state of agony broke her heart.

“Lucy, you need to let her go, the medics are taking care of her now.”, Alexia smiled empathetically at the older player.

“I’ll come and check on you later, okay?”, your girlfriend whispered into your ear before releasing her protective grip from you with a heavy heart.

Instead of speaking you just nodded, signalizing that you heard her, as the medical staff was taking you off the pitch. Even though you closed your eyes you could feel Lucys gaze lingering on you until you were inside the ambulance. The sound of clapping hands from your team and the fans warmed your heart.

“That was bad. She was white as a ghost.”, the defender whispered, the shock of your terrible injury was written all over her.

“Don’t think about it right now, focus on the game, Lucy.”, Keira responded.

“I’m focused.”, Lucy shrugged it off.

Looking at the time, she added:” It’s only ten more minutes anyway.”

Turned out, these were the longest ten minutes in her whole career.

She never felt more relieved when the referee blew the final whistle. As fast as the English woman could she packed her things to travel to your hospital bed.

“Hey, how are you?”, Lucy asked you still out of breath.

“It hurts so much, Lucy.”, you replied in an honest tone, you hated how you sounded, so weak, normally you were known to be a woman who could handle her pain.

“I know. But it will get better.“, Lucy promised as she sat down on the side of your bed.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head: “No, they said it might end my career…“

Lucy shook her head determinedly: “They can’t know that yet! We don’t even know what it is!“

“It’s my knee.“, you said, your voice choked with tears. You took a deep breath to gather yourself before you added: “Isn’t it weird? We already worried about your knee and here we are…“

If you were not as overwhelmed with the situation, you might have laughed about the irony. You girlfriends knee had been troubling her for some time now so you had prepared for the event that she would have to retire.

What you had failed to include in your plans was the fact that injuries could happen at any time and football careers could be cut short by them.

“We’re not at the point for this conversation yet.“, Lucy replied with stubborn hopefulness.

You sighed: “I know… but I have a bad feeling…“

Lucy took your hand in hers, squeezing encouragingly: “That doesn’t have to mean anything.“

It took days of different tests and scans until you finally had your diagnosis. You had been able to tell what would follow from the look on the doctors face before he even said a word.

It got too real too fast. You were suddenly faced with the fact that your life would never be the same again, the dream that you had spend years working so hard for turned to ash right in front of you on a random Tuesday afternoon.

“Luce, could you please leave me alone for a moment?“, you begged. There were no tears yet, just emptiness.

Your girlfriend rubbed circles on your healthy knee with her thumb: “Y/n, please…“

“We just got told that I can never play again. Go!“, you shouted at her.

Lucy only frowned at you: “We can find another doctor. There’s always a way.“

“Not right now. Leave!“, you instructed her once more, this time as collected as you were capable of.

Reluctantly she got up and left the room without another word.

Only then your tears began to fall and realization set in.

Outside of your hospital room, your teammates were impatiently waiting for any news.

“What did the doctor say, Lucy?“, Mapi asked as soon as English defender stepped out. The heads of the other players snapped up immediately.

Lucy looked at Fridolina, Aitana, Ingrid and Alexia and shook her head. “He pretty much told her that her career is over. She didn’t even have the surgery yet!“

Ingrid blinked down at the bouquet of lilies in her hands, her lip trembling: “And all we got her are her favourite flowers…“

“She’ll still appreciate them.”, your girlfriend reassured her with a sad smile on her lips.

“Yes, but we didn’t thought this could be a career ending injury-“, the team captain explained, but even she was at a loss for words, nothing what the midfielder could say felt appropriate, you weren’t that old yet, and the thought of you never playing for Barca Femeni again was terrible to her.

Alexia could feel a lump in her throat as she was thinking about you, normally you’d have so many years left in the beautiful game.

“Her scream will haunt me in my dreams, it was awful.”, Fridolina confessed, biting her lip.

“This will be a hard time for her.”, Aitana whispered, visibly moved by the news about your injury as the Swede hugged her.

“As well as for Lucia.”, Mapi predicted.

“I’m fine.”, Lucy tried to comfort her teammates with her reply.

“No, we’re here for you both.”, Alexia clarified.

Your teammates stayed true to their words, whenever one of you had a bad day, they made sure that someone was there for you or Lucy.

A day before the surgery your girlfriend made sure she was at home. The defender and you were laying on the sofa, her strong arms were wrapped around you, making you feel very safe and comforted despite the rising nervousness.

“Are you ready for it, love?”, Lucy asked you attentively.

“I am ready.”, you nodded, while she was running a hand through your open hair which you knew she loved a lot.

“Maybe things will change once it’s healed.”, the older woman thought out loud, her voice full of optimism.

“Yes, maybe. But you know what we need right now?”, you changed the subject to something more light-hearted.

Smiling your girlfriend watched you while you were making two cappuccinos for both of you, with a sprinkle of hot chocolate powder on top of it. The delicious scent filled your whole living room, mirroring the peaceful atmosphere of this afternoon.

“Did you perfect your latte art while I was in training.”, Lucy rose an eyebrow in amusement.

“Possible. Narla loved it because she got a lot of milk foam in the process.”, you winked at her laughing, as the dark-haired player took a few sips from the hot drink, closing her eyes with relish.

“At least it had something positive for one of us.”, the defender smirked, meanwhile the West Highland Terrier has been taking your place, so she received her daily dose of cuddles. You could never get tired of the sight of these two, which had a huge place in your heart.  

“And you got a delicious cup of coffee at the end too.”, you reminded her. More serious you added:” Missed me at training?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s asking how you are.”, Lucy cleared her throat.

“I miss them too.“, you admitted. “They’re more than teammates, you know?“

Your girlfriend nodded slowly, in quiet understanding: “I know.“

“Of course you do. Sorry.“ Your gaze shifted towards the contents of your cup.

Lucys hand appeared on your healthy knee, rubbing light circles with her thumb. “No, I appreciate them for their support.“

You looked back and managed a slight smile: “Me too, them and you.“

The defender shrugged casually: “That’s the least thing I can do for you.“

Before you could assure her that she already did more than necessary, Narla jumped on your lap and started to lick your face.

Giggling, you pulled back: “Oh, apologies, Narla. You’re doing a great job too.“

You rewarded the little dog with some pets while Lucy laughed: “Don’t forget your biggest supporter.“

“Never,“

“I’m sure she will take good care of you after the surgery.“, Lucy joked.

You pushed any thought about the surgery away. For now, you just wanted to enjoy the calm afternoon with your two favourites.

You did not remember much about your surgery day until you woke up from anaesthesia. You were confused and tired and you heard people talking all around you. It took you a while to recognize the familiar voices.

“Luce, it’s going to be alright.“ That was Mariona.

“I can only hope so.“, you heard your girlfriend say, her voice was full of worry.

“She’s a fighter.“, Mapis voice promised in the darkness.

“She is.“

“See?“

You finally found the energy to open your eyes. Your teammates all stared back at you. Slowly blinking, you had to clear your throat. It felt disgustingly dry.

“Girls? Hi…“, you managed to say hoarsely.

Mapi smiled: “Hi.“

“Love, you’ve done it.“ Lucy carefully took your hand in hers, studying your face closely.

You frowned: “I didn’t do anything.“

“Yes, you did.“, Lucy remained stubborn.

“The doctors were working.“

You were too tired for an argument so you were grateful when Ingrid changed the subject: “How do you feel? Are you thirsty? We got water and some snacks for you.“

“I’m okay. Water sounds great right now…“, you replied truthfully and were immediately handed a glass of water by the Norwegian.

“Here you go.“

You took a sip. Your throat already felt so much better. “Thanks, Ingrid.“

“You’re welcome.“

“They didn’t say anything, right? If the surgery went well and stuff?“, Lucy interrupted. You just blinked at your girlfriend in confusion. Hadn't she just been watching you wake up?

“I’ve not spoken to them yet…“, you replied.

“That’s okay. I can do that for you. You need to rest now.“

It was only when your teammates had left and you had time to recover why Lucy was so nervous about the outcome of the surgery.

But both of your hopes were crushed several hours later in the same hospital room by a stern looking doctor. He confirmed that the recovery process would be hard and your injury would very likely end your professional career.

“Love?”, Lucy started gently.

“Yes?”, you looked up, still too shocked by the recent confirmation.

“Maybe we should let a second doctor check your knee.”, she suggested cautiously.

“Okay.”, you agreed, too exhausted to say anything more than that, while the defender kissed your hand lightly.

“Maybe there’s still a chance.”, your girlfriend more optimistically than she actually felt. But Lucy wanted to be strong for you even though the news saddened her almost as much as you.

It was after the third time you tried another doctor who was only repeating the diagnosis you heart right from the start that you exploded in front of her:” I had enough, Lucy. No more doctor visits because of it, I can’t do this anymore.”

You could see the shock on the English woman’s face. It was so unlike you to go after her like this.

“Maybe there is one out there that can fix your knee.”, your girlfriend mumbled, still too stunned about the way you reacted.

“Are you even listening to me?”, you yelled frustrated at her unshaken optimism despite the bad news.

“I am. But I’m not ready for you to end your career yet.”, Lucy declared stubbornly.

Her belief was something which ignited a little spark of hope inside you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said what you did next:” The recovery just begun, so maybe we should take it one step at a time.”

“Okay, fine.”, the defender agreed.

But rehab turned out to be physically and mentally tough for you and the people who loved you. On an especially hard day in the gym, you begged Mapi who was there as well to not call Lucy to pick you up. Simply because your girlfriend was already doing so much for you in everyday life.

“Why not? She can just pick you up.”, the Spaniard shrugged.

“No, she can’t see me like this.”, you frantically shook your head.

The face of your teammate softened. She paused for a moment before asking you.

“Do you really think she cares?”

“All she cares about is my comeback, Mapi. What if the doctors are right, do you think Luce would break up?”, it suddenly broke out of you, the fears which had a hold on you since the recovery started, were put into words for the first time. Before they only lived in your head.

“No. There’s no way.”, Mapi promptly answered without a second thought.

“Like whom am I when this ends?”, you continued, a sad smile appeared on your lips.

The defender stroke your back empathetically: “You’re still you. You’re more than a football player. Always remember that.”

The darkness you had felt earlier was feeling a little lighter through the kind words of your friend. It was like there was a light at the end of the tunnel, you could almost reach it with your hand.

You gently placed your hand on Mapis thigh and forced yourself to look at her: “We need to meet up for a coffee soon. I need to see something else than the gym…“

“Tell me when and where.“, your teammate replied, giving you an encouraging smile.

“I’ll.“, you said with genuine anticipation.

Excitedly, Mapi suggested: “I can bring Ingrid.“

“Sounds great.“

“We’re happy to distract you.“

You just smiled at the defender. Even though this phase of your life was not the easiest, the love and compassion you got from your teammates made it bearable.

When you got home, Lucy was already waiting for you impatiently. The expression on her face already told you everything, you needed to know. You suppressed a sigh.

“Mapi told me what you said to her earlier…“, Lucy began.

“Did she?“ It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes.“

“We were just talking.“, you tried your best to calm Lucys worries.

“You should have asked me to pick you up.“, Lucy insisted, anger mixing into her voice.

You had no energy to fight now. “It was fine. You already do so much, I don’t want to be a burden to you.“

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes: “Oh, please.“

“What?“

“Stop being like that. You know I want to help you.“

“I just told you that you’re already helping!“ You sighed with annoyance.

Lucys voice went quieter as she said: “Not in the important moments…“

“Luce…“ You bridged the gap between the two of you, unsure of what to do next.

“Just call me next time.“

“I’ll.“, you promised.

“Thanks.“

Carefully, you wrapped your arms around Lucy. She leaned into the hug, the crease between her eyebrows softening. You locked eyes with her: “I love you.“

Lucys lips moved in an attempt to reply but she was interrupted by a high-pitched whimper.

You both looked down to see Narla sitting at your feet.

“And you too of course, Narla.“, you laughed.

Lucys features finally relaxed: “Let me make you some dinner. Maybe that can save your day.“

“Yours definitely does.“, you grinned, only then realizing how hungry you were.

With a wink, your girlfriend pulled out of the hug: “I’ll make your fav.“

“Thank you.“ You kissed her cheek, full of gratefulness.

As promised, you met Mapi and Ingrid at a small café the next morning. You were chatting about your recovery and the latest team news. Ingrid was in the middle of explaining how Martas shoes had disappeared from the changing room when Mapi took a sip of coffee and started coughing.

Ingrid looked at her girlfriend in concern, stopping herself mid-setence.

“Oh my god. That coffee is awful, y/n. The one you make is so much better.“, Mapi grimaced.

“Mapi, be quiet!“, Ingrid told her girlfriend quickly. She looked around the café sheepishly in hopes that no one had heard her girlfriend slandering their coffee.

Mapi shrugged: “But it’s true.“

“Uhm thanks, I guess?”, you replied smiling amused at the Spaniards dramatics.

“She’s not wrong to be honest.”, the Norwegian admitted blushing.

“Actually, I’ve always dreamed about opening my own café, someday where Lucy could have her bar alongside.”, you confessed, your eyes looked dreamily at no one in particular.

Behind them you were daydreaming about it, you could see the welcoming, modern space, the coffee machine which everyone would spot at first sight when they entered the café, with cute different coffee cups, waiting to be filled. In the day it would serve all kinds of hot and iced drinks while in the evening your girlfriend would serve drinks.

“Oh my god, you should!”, Mapi clapped her hands excitedly. The defender was your ultimate hype woman since the injury.

“Yes, we’d never go anywhere else.”, Ingrid added grinning.

“Please! Everyone can be a coach or a pundit after retirement.”, her girlfriend basically begged you.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”, you asked them.

“Okay.”, the older woman nodded.

Step by step your daydream turned into reality over the upcoming months. As your body recovered from the big injury, the café came slowly together too. While your physical and mental wounds started to heal you felt more comfortable each day in your new role as former football player and current small business owner.

Obviously, it still hurt a little when you saw your girlfriend and teammates play, but on your private opening celebration with them you felt an inner calmness about it. You were ready for your next chapter which was still unwritten.

“Are you ready for your first customers?”, Lucy’s question took you back to the present.

“I’m ready.”, you answered, a nervous smile flitted across your face.

She pressed an encouraging kiss on your cheek, before remarking:” There they are.”

“Hi, come on in, girls.”, you waved at the entering guests cheerfully.

“Hi, this turned out so cute girls.”, Mapi noted with approval while taking everything in.

“Yes, this is so you, I love it.”, Ingrid marvelled at her surroundings.

“Thank you, I assume that you guys want two flat whites?”, hearing them praise your new project made your face lit up.

“Don’t you worry, later we’ll have some drinks to celebrate the opening properly.”, Lucy told her teammates with a cocky smile on her lips.

“We’ll stay for both. Coffee and drinks.”, the Spaniard responded happily.

“Perfect.”, you were just starting to make their coffees as slowly but surely the rest of your team was getting inside the café.

They tried to show you that their support didn’t stop because your football career has been cut short, it was still there and today you could feel it especially.

Late at night, your girlfriend and you had done the cleaning of the mess the celebration had caused. In the background slow music was playing and Lucy danced with you in the dim lit room, whispering into your ear:” I love this little life we created together.”

So did you, you searched for hope after the injury and you found it in the encouraging smiles of your friends and right here in the arms of the defender who you loved a little bit more with every passing day.

[neostrayteez]

DANCE ALL DAY

PAIRING. jung wooyoung x female reader

WORD COUNT. 6.4k

SUMMARY. you couldn’t have asked for a better roommate than Wooyoung. until he asks you to stop bringing guys over.

WARNINGS. smut, profanity, brief alcohol use

PLAYLIST. “say so” by doja cat

LIKE IT LOVE IT NEED IT BAD TAKE IT OWN IT STEAL IT FAST

Sharing an apartment with a guy that was not your boyfriend always got you some weird looks, but you wouldn’t trade having Wooyoung as your roommate for anything.

That changed last night.

You had a bit of a system when it came to boys and it was foolproof. Your commitment issues and daddy issues banded together to make you totally undateable and so, you were sticking with the casual thing.

Which was a nice way of saying you were in a friends with benefits situation.

Up until now, it hadn’t been an issue. You mastered a balancing act of three guys - each of them a friend you trusted implicitly with your body and very rarely your need for affection. When you had an itch that needed scratching, you called up whichever boy was available and sent him home with a kiss after.

You weren’t noisy; you were very discreet. You never paraded your booty calls around your roommate. None of them stayed for breakfast or dinner.

And that was why you were stunned when Wooyoung asked, “Can you please stop bringing guys over?”

You blinked and immediately assumed the worst. “I’m sorry. Did one of them say something to you?”

Though given detailed instructions on how to behave when in your shared apartment, it would be just like San to say something snarky on his way out. Even Hongjoong wouldn’t pass up a chance to let your roomie know you were getting railed. Only in Seonghwa did you trust. He wouldn’t utter a word about what happened in your bedroom.

“No,” Wooyoung said, and you breathed out in relief. “It’s just… I don’t know. Forget I said anything.”

You sidled closer to him on the sofa and put a comforting hand on his arm, insisting, “No, this is your space, too. I won’t bring anyone into it if you’re uncomfortable.”

Wooyoung could barely look at you, which was definitely out of the ordinary. He glanced down at your hand on his arm like it unnerved him and that made you feel horribly out of place. Usually, you and Wooyoung were touchy with each other, like inseparable besties as well as roommates.

Most evenings consisted of you molded to him on the couch in front of the television, his arm around you and his hand on your waist or hip. Both of you were cuddly. There was nothing wrong with that.

Or so you had been led to believe.

“I’m uncomfortable,” Wooyoung said, making you worry even more.

“Oh. Okay.”

Wooyoung apologized again and quickly retreated to his room.

To say you were miffed would be an understatement. You cared deeply about Wooyoung. He was a great roommate and an even better friend, and you weren’t ready to lose him.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, you took out your phone and messaged each of your hookups and asked, Did you say something to my roommate the last time you were here?

No, was - thank goodness - the unanimous answer.

San, however, was the only one to ask, Why?

You knew better than to respond, because San would find a way to tease you for this. He was playful by nature and loved to get a rise out of you any way he could. He also had some rivalry with your roommate. They played the same sports, were in the same dance club, and had mutual friends on campus.

You couldn’t help yourself. San was unfortunately very easy to talk to and you were at a loss when it came to Wooyoung.

He doesn’t want me having sex in the apartment anymore, you replied.

San responded with a bunch of laughing emojis.

You frowned. For once, couldn’t he take things seriously? It’s not funny, you texted rapidly. He says he’s uncomfortable.

Yeah. Uncomfortable that he’s not the one giving you dick.

Your jaw dropped and you exclaimed aloud to an empty room, “What?!”

You called San and he picked up after the first ring, chuckling as he said, “You really didn’t know?”

“You’re serious?” You lowered your voice, mindful of your roommate in the next room. “Wooyoung is into me?”

“God, you’re dense. I don’t haul ass out of your apartment because I want to get away from you - I’m trying to avoid getting murdered by your roomie!”

You slumped back against the couch, shaking your head. Of all the bullshit, this was the one you didn’t anticipate. Wooyoung never hit on you. Not once. Sure, he flirted with you and you flirted back. It was harmless. If he had ever made a romantic move on you, you would have stopped it, but he didn’t.

“I really don’t know what to do with this information,” you whined, rubbing your brow.

San replied without missing a beat, “Bone him.”

“San…”

“It will break the spell! You’re this beautiful girl that doesn’t hide that she likes sex. He’s got you up like an angel on a pedestal. If he actually gets to touch you for once, maybe he’ll chill the fuck out.”

“Or it will completely fuck up our roommate dynamic,” you shot back. Running a hand through your hair, your imagination immediately went to images of Wooyoung. Having sex with him had crossed your mind before. Intrusive thoughts, but mostly just plain curiosity.

He was handsome. Duh. And that gorgeous smile? Whew. Naturally, you never voiced either of these opinions, because Wooyoung’s ego already struggled to fit into the apartment.

Rustling in the background brought you back to the phone call. It sounded like San was at the gym, as to be expected for someone with his physique. Wooyoung hit the gym a lot too. Lately, you noticed its effects on his arms and shoulders, leading to more intrusive thoughts you stifled down.

“Maybe,” San said in a cute voice. “You won’t know until you try.”

You pursed your lips. “I keep forgetting you get off to me fucking other people.”

San laughed loudly at that. “Do it or don’t do it. I’ll still come running when you call me.”

“Good to know. Bye, San.”

San, the little shit, had ruined your entire evening. You avoided Wooyoung like the plague, because you didn’t know what in the actual hell you were supposed to do now.

Talking to him would be the first step, obviously, but where would you even start?

You decided to get a second opinion, hoping this one would settle all of your doubts.

Hongjoong answered your call with a low, “What’s good?”

“Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“Okay?”

You whispered, “Does Wooyoung like me?”

There was a short pause followed by Hongjoong giggling.

“Joong!”

“Calm your perfect tits,” he chided playfully, then his tone took a dive. “But leave me the fuck out of it.”

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t say anything?!”

“What did you want me to say exactly? ‘Hey, your roommate is jacking off to us fucking.’ It would have killed the mood.”

“Not in San’s case,” you deadpanned.

Hongjoong chuckled.

You smiled at the sound of his laughter, but your lips slowly lowered into a frown. You sighed. “I guess I have to talk to him.”

“I guess you do.”

Hongjoong, of course, was no help, but this did mean that two out of three boys confirmed Wooyoung liked you as more than a friend. But you needed more than that. You needed more than reassurance.

You needed someone to tell you what to do. Matters of the heart were a foreign language to you.

That left Seonghwa, the feelings expert.

“Just talk to him,” he said sweetly, but with urging. “You know him. You’ve been living together how long?”

“Over a year.”

“Exactly.”

You glanced at the clock. You’d been on the phone with Seonghwa for almost an hour.

“Done stalling yet?” Seonghwa teased. He knew you too well.

You nodded, looking at a strip of pictures of you and Wooyoung taken in a photo booth last summer. “Almost.”

Seonghwa snickered.

“Thanks, Hwa.”

“Do you love him?”

You sucked in a breath like he just socked you in the stomach. “That’s a strong word.”

“As a friend?”

You chewed on your lip, glancing down at the photos again. “Yeah, I love him. He’s my guy.”

Wooyoung was the first person you saw in the morning and the last person you saw at night. He was always willing to study with you for hours on end, pulled his own weight in keeping the apartment tidy no matter how much he despised cleaning and complimented whatever you cooked. Even the food you burnt to an accidental crisp.

He made you laugh till you cried, cried freely with you during sad movies, and covered you tenderly with a blanket when you fell asleep on the couch. There were a few times you crashed at the dining table, your head on an open textbook and your neck at a very uncomfortable angle, but you woke up the next morning in your bed, because Wooyoung had carried you to your room and tucked you in.

Your roommate never overstepped your boundaries or made you feel like you owed him in any way. He was just there - always; a steady, reliable presence in your chaotic life.

The more you sat and thought about him, the more you accepted how much love you had for Wooyoung.

“I think you answered your own question,” Seonghwa said and you could tell by his tone he was smiling.

You thanked him again and said goodbye, wallowing in the silence and your conflicted feelings, and weighing your options. And what you decided to do next.

In the evening, when Wooyoung came home, his hair still damp from a shower after soccer practice, he immediately let out a loud approving sound. “What is she cooking?” your roommate exclaimed, practically kicking off his shoes.

You grinned from ear to ear. “Get in here and find out!”

Wooyoung hung up his things before rushing into the kitchen, eyes darting toward the crackling on the stove. “Fried rice?” he asked, peering over your shoulder.

You held out a spoonful to him, hovering your hand underneath to catch any falling pieces, and shoveled it into his mouth.

“Mm!” Wooyoung was dramatic as always, making a bunch of noises and smacking his lips together. Though, in his defense, it was very good. “Delicious!”

“And lots of side dishes,” you said, pointing at the collection of bowls on the counter full of seasoned vegetables and the like. “I know how you get after practice.”

“Like a bottomless pit,” Wooyoung quipped as his stomach rumbled, leaving the kitchen to set the table in the living room in front of the television.

As you ate together, you asked about his day and he asked about yours. You both spoke casually about upcoming assignments and exams, then switched to spring break which was looming.

All the while, you caught yourself staring at Wooyoung. You were waiting to see that look in his eyes - the unmistakable sign a boy was into you. But all you saw was affection. Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled like stars whenever he looked at you, but that was what you had come to expect from him.

He always looked at the world around him like it was one big playground for him to explore and conquer.

And in that moment, you realized you wanted your body to be added to that list.

After clearing the table, bellies full, you set out two glasses and filled them with red wine.

Wooyoung watched you top off his glass and joked, “Trying to get me drunk?”

You snorted. “Me first.”

That had his attention. “Oh?” Wooyoung took a sip. “What’s bothering you?”

Feeling his eyes on you, you gulped down some of the wine and asked, “Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

You propped your head on your hand, studying him. In the past day, you had become hyper aware of Wooyoung, desperate to know if he felt something for you before you made a fool of yourself.

He watched you with that same adorable smile, an extra twinkle in his eyes courtesy of the soft buzz setting in from wine. But hadn’t he always looked at you like that?

Yes.

Wooyoung mirrored you, holding his head on his hand, making you smile bashfully.

You took a breath and finally said, “Why don’t you want me bringing guys over anymore?”

Your roommate frowned and his pretty smile dropped, every feature of his face shifting to fear like a spooked animal. He sat up and fiddled with his glass. “I told you. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Can you hear us? I’ve always been careful to be quiet and not disturb you.”

“No. I mean, yeah. I can hear a little bit, but…” he trailed off.

“But?”

Wooyoung turned to you sharply. “Do you like those guys?”

You shrugged. “They’re my friends. I like having sex with them. I trust them.”

Blunt and to the point. Wooyoung always respected that about you, but it wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “Why don’t you date them?” he pressed.

You pretended to wince and said, “Sorry, Woo. Only my therapist is welcome on that conversation.”

Wooyoung was flustered and lowered his head to hide it. He so badly wanted to understand you. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”

Your first instinct was to comfort him, but you couldn’t understand why this was difficult for him to talk about. Wooyoung had always been open and fearless about everything. Why did that stop with you?

“I feel like I’ve made things awkward between us now,” he said with a heavy sigh.

Yeah, you thought, but you didn’t voice that because you didn’t want it to be true. You decided your friendship with Wooyoung was far more important than getting laid and you would make arrangements not to fool around in the apartment anymore.

But that wouldn’t solve the real issue. If Wooyoung liked you, as your trio of fuck boys were certain he did, things would only fester.

“Answer me one thing and answer honestly.”

Wooyoung nodded. “Okay.”

“If me bringing guys into our apartment bothers you, I won’t do it anymore. I’ll respect your space.”

Wooyoung thanked you.

“But,” you continued, holding up a finger to let him know you weren’t finished. “If you want me to stop bringing them over because you’re jealous I’m having sex, then we need to talk about it.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened and he became understandably defensive. “I’m not jealous. I hook up with people, too!”

“Alright then.”

“It’s just…”

“What?”

Wooyoung scratched the back of his head. He wanted to be honest. It was in his nature, but he regretted the words the moment they left his big mouth. “When you’re with them, I know what you’re doing. I’m not an idiot. And… it turns me on.”

You made a face. Damn you, Choi San.

It was just about the sex. There were no deeply rooted feelings. Wooyoung was just a boy and you were just a girl, and knowing you were getting fucked aroused him. It was basic biology.

“You could always ask to join in, you know,” you said dryly, hoping it would put him at ease.

Wooyoung did the last thing you expected - he visibly bristled. The idea infuriated him. His brows stitched and his nostrils flared as he snapped, “No. Hell no. I would never share you. I wouldn’t let any man touch you but me.”

Your lips parted. Damn it. You were wrong. The fuck boys were right, after all.

Wooyoung realized what he’d done - what he admitted to you - you, his best friend, his roommate and his unrequited crush. A secret he had successfully hidden for months and just spilled all over you.

“I… fuck!” Wooyoung stammered, knowing damn well there was no recovering from this humiliation. “I’m so fucked now. Aren’t I?”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “Only if you want to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stood up slowly and told him, “I’m going to my room now. Do you want to come with me?”

Wooyoung stared up at you in disbelief and there was a cute crack in his voice when he said, “To your room?”

“Yes.”

Your roommate was on his feet in the time it took you to blink.

You grabbed him by the hand and led Wooyoung with you into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. You stopped at the foot of your bed and turned around, smoothing your hands up his chest and to his head, winding your fingers into his hair.

Wooyoung held onto your waist, his eyes glazed over like he couldn’t believe this was happening. He stared at your lips before scanning your face, searching for any sign of hesitation.

He found none.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, tipping your head back and closing your eyes.

Wooyoung met his lips to yours slowly, sending a pleasant heat rushing through your body.

You couldn’t help but smile. He kissed you gently and intimately, and tightened his arms around you to bring you flush against him. You hummed a little as you melted into the warmth of his body and deepened the kiss.

Wooyoung broke reluctantly from your lips to search your face again, hoping you liked kissing him as much as he liked kissing you, and smirked when he saw the daze in your eyes.

“Wow,” you said, looking at him hungrily. He had just opened a well deep inside you and you were ready to have it filled.

“Yeah.” Wooyoung swallowed the lump in his throat. The tension in his chest was almost painful, the ache his body had for you was even worse.

“Keep going.”

Wooyoung didn’t need to be told twice. This time, when he kissed you, it was scalding and heavy, causing a catch in his breath.

You held onto his arms as he moved forward, legs bumping into yours. When the backs of your knees felt the edge of the mattress, you fell back and took him with you.

“Fuck,” Wooyoung groaned before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You fisted a hand in his hair and hooked your legs around his hips. That got Wooyoung’s attention, because he grunted and pressed himself against your clothed sex in a heat-seeking thrust.

“You wanna get naked?” you asked, nibbling at his lips.

Wooyoung chuckled. “Is that a trick question?”

You batted your lashes at him coyly. “I’m just following your lead.”

With a shake of his head (because he still hadn’t accepted you were actually beneath him), Wooyoung sat up, your legs still wrapped his waist, and stripped off his shirt.

You helped him get it over his head and immediately brushed your hands over his toned chest and abs. He was hard to the touch, and hot as hell. Like he carried the sun inside him. It would make sense, considering the way his smile always lit up the room.

Wooyoung snickered as your hands bumped into his, hurriedly trying to undress each other, stealing kisses in between. You shimmied his jeans down his legs and Wooyoung lost his balance, landing on you. He distracted you from teasing him for it by slotting his lips back to yours, swallowing your laughter.

Dragging your fingertips down his back, you hummed into his mouth, trying not to think about how crazed he made you, how badly you wanted him to touch you until he’d felt every inch of you. Wooyoung was trying and failing not to think about your breasts against his chest, but the brush of your perked nipples on his skin made him buck his hips into you.

You gasped for breath when Wooyoung trailed wet kisses down your neck, finding a sensitive spot to suck and bruise. You rocked into him, feeling his clothed cock rubbing against your sex, and whimpered. Your pulse was out of control, thundering through your body. You wondered if he could hear it.

The little noises you made as he nibbled at your neck and palmed over your breasts, teasing your nipples, had Wooyoung endlessly swearing. Fuck’s sake, every single thing she does is so fucking pretty.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wooyoung purred in your ear, smashing his lips on yours before you could answer with a kiss that made your heart stop altogether.

You were running out of patience at breakneck speed. You wanted him inside you then and there before you lost your mind. If he only knew that you were aching for him, but you were too busy kissing him to admit it. Instead, you drifted your hands down his body and grabbed at his cock.

Wooyoung finally tore himself away from you to strip out of his boxers. You licked your lips the moment his hard cock slipped free and got on hands and knees, reaching for his dick and fisting the head.

“Shit,” Wooyoung whined, staggering out a moan. You’d wasted no time and leaned forward, steering his cock into your mouth and sealing your lips around it.

Don’t come, Wooyoung told himself. Repeatedly. But it was probably in vain. The girl he liked since the moment he met her - you - who was always in the room beside his, but felt like worlds away, was touching him.

And not just touching, but sucking the soul out of him.

Wooyoung said your name shakily, getting a handful of your hair and pushing on your head in an attempt to slow you down, because fucking hell, you were relentless. You chuckled, sending vibrations down his cock and to every corner of his body and kept bobbing, taking him deeper into your throat.

“Oh, fuck. Baby, please,” Wooyoung cried, knees buckling and thighs trembling. At this point, he didn’t care how much noise he made. You deserved to hear every damn note.

You worked him up with your saliva, using your tight fist at the base of him while your mouth focused on the head. You watched the lines of his abs flex with restraint and his rapid breaths. Next on your to-do list would be leaving hickies all along his chiseled stomach and chest. You wanted to mark up his perfect skin and see what other sounds you could get out of him for it.

Wooyoung clenched his jaw. His hips thrust forward no matter how badly he fought it, shoving his cock further into your throat. A wet choking noise was his reward and it made his dick twitch with arousal. Your roommate quickly looked down to see if he’d gone too far, but instead, he saw you staring up at him, sinking toward him until you had swallowed every last inch of his cock, gagging loudly and making tears glisten in your eyes.

Fuck.

Wooyoung tipped his head back, lips parted with pleasure, and moaned at the top of his lungs. His eyes rolled. All the blood in his body rushed to his cock. He felt light-headed and shaky, imagining you sucking every drop of cum out of his dick until he was spent.

“Damn it,” he whined, both hands in your hair now. He held on tight, matching your pace and slowly thrusting into your mouth. His moans pitched higher with desperation. “I’m gonna come,” Wooyoung warned, panting, chest heaving, pleading your name to either finish him or have some mercy.

He would get neither for now. You pulled away from his cock with a wet pop, rocking back onto your knees, his fingers falling out of your hair. Wooyoung looked at you worriedly, his face flushed with heat and an adorable red staining his cheeks, and swallowed to wet his throat.

Tantalizing slow, you laid back, propping on your elbows and spreading your legs apart. “Condoms are in the top drawer,” you said offhandedly, cocking your head toward the nightstand beside your bed.

Wooyoung’s eyes were on your folds, his mouth watering at how they glistened with need. Blowing him did that to you? I’m screwed, he thought.

You were more than ready for him to fuck you and you weren’t sure you could make it any more obvious than holding your thighs wide open for him, but when Wooyoung suddenly dropped to his knees at the end of the bed and buried his face in your cunt, you cried out in surprise.

Pleasant surprise, that is.

Oh, fuck, you thought, biting your lip to keep from saying it like a mantra. Your head fell back and your eyes winched closed, a moan escaping on your exhale.

Wooyoung got your legs on his shoulders, his hands anchored to your hips, and found your clit with his tongue. He wanted to drop comments about how wet you were and another comment about how good you tasted. Both of them very horny and lewd, of course. But Wooyoung would have to take his tongue out of your pussy to speak and that just wasn’t worth it.

You started squirming and Wooyoung knew he was on the right track. Your hands flew to his head and your fingers winding into his hair tightly made a groan rumble in his chest. He wanted you to pull his hair as hard as you could, right on the edge of being painful.

A hungry, persistent suck of your clit did just that. You arched on the mattress, your body bowing at the pleasure between your legs and you tugged on Wooyoung’s hair at the roots, making him break from your sweet cunt to let out a loud raspy moan, sneaking an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh before diving back in.

“Shit. Shit. Fuck,” you cried, writhing beneath him, squirming in his arms. Wooyoung was finally using a little pressure to keep you in place and you were suddenly very aware of how much stronger he was than you.

Wooyoung could feel his cock twitching. Your sex was overloading every one of his senses, making his cock so hard he began thrusting his hips, trying to find some friction. He loved that you were trying to escape him; it meant the pleasure was almost too much. Kinda like when his dick was lost in your throat.

We’re even now, he thought with a grin.

You turned on your side and Wooyoung let you, latching onto your clit, out to ruin you for anyone else. Your body tensed, coiling and coiling, about to snap. Your breaths were loud, your chest heaving with them. Clamping your thighs on Wooyoung’s head - much to his delight - your voice cracked when you said, “I’m coming. Wooyoung, I’m coming.”

Wooyoung reeled his hand back and landed a palm on your ass, sending a loud smack through the room and a vicious sting across your skin. And it finished you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you moaned his name, shuddering with orgasm. Wooyoung kept toying with your clit, his lips wet and warm, and you thrashed in his arms.

“Stop! Please,” you begged, yanking on his hair.

Which only turned Wooyoung on more, but he obeyed. He parted reluctantly from your pussy, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and stared down at his handiwork, having felt your sex gushing and clenching with release.

“Goddamn, baby,” Wooyoung said with a growl, giving your ass another slap. Before the night was out, he was going to make your body want him and him only.

You blinked to clear the fog in your eyes, still panting harshly. Hongjoong was an expert at eating pussy, but Wooyoung was going to give him a run for his money at this rate.

“Put a condom on,” you said bluntly.

Wooyoung rushed over to the nightstand, cursing himself for looking so eager. He grabbed a packet from the drawer and ripped it open with his teeth.

You followed his every move with your eyes, salivating over that stiff cock curving toward his abs. Your walls were still pulsing from the orgasm he’d given you and you shamelessly wanted to fuck his brains out in retaliation.

As Wooyoung finished fitting the condom on his length, you pulled him onto the bed by his shoulders and straddled his lap. Your roommate grinned, getting off to how badly you wanted him, and held onto your waist for dear life.

Rising up, you steered his cock into your entrance and starting sinking down on him. You were so wet with release, he slid in easily at first, but the fit was tight and made Wooyoung moan with his whole chest.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, lifting up and down, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate him. You underestimated just how big he was and sucked in a breath when his cock rubbed against your sweet spot.

Wooyoung took your reaction to mean you were in pain. “Slow down,” he whispered, running his palms over your sides and breasts to soothe you. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“I want it,” you said breathlessly, working your pussy on his length until he was finally sheathed inside.

Wooyoung wondered if you wanted the other boys this badly. Did you talk like that to them too? Did you take them as eagerly as you took him? Did you have that same euphoric look on your face when they were inside you?

But he dared not ask. He was too afraid of the answer. If you said yes, then Wooyoung was just another boy to you. If you said no, then he was different. Maybe even special.

The last thing he needed was hope that you returned his feelings.

Wooyoung exhaled loudly, releasing the breath he’d been holding, and let his hands fall to your hips. He grinded his teeth and felt his lashes fluttering, his eyes wanting to roll back in his head at the hot vice of your perfect cunt.

He was definitely ready to square up with the other boys if they came knocking at your door again.

You hummed at how full you felt and rocked your hips a little, making a tiny circle. Combing your hair out of your face, you glanced down and locked eyes with Wooyoung.

There was no word that could describe how he was looking at you. It surpassed lust and worship and landed closer to nirvana.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled, but everything in your face and in your voice screamed that you didn’t mean it. You wanted him to only look at you that way for the rest of your life.

“Like what?”

“Like this is the best pussy you’ve ever had.”

“Well…,” Wooyoung said, lips spreading into a grin. “You’re not wrong.”

You snickered.

Wooyoung softened and reached for you, cradling your face in his hands and gently pulling you down until you were chest to chest and pressing your lips to his. You propped yourself over him and sucked on his tongue in your mouth, tasting your release.

Mm. This was a little too good.

Wooyoung broke from your lips and ran his thumb affectionately over your cheek. Then he trailed his hands down your back and got a hard grip on your hips, and said, “Fuck me.”

You fully intended to. Sitting back up, you braced your hands on his abs and started to ride him. The rest of the world faded away. There was only you and Wooyoung and the pleasure you took from each other’s bodies.

Every time you wondered if you were going too hard or too slow, or if your pace wasn’t making him feel good, you peered down at Wooyoung and saw only lust. His hands on your hips kept you steady, kneading you almost in reassurance.

Ironically, Wooyoung was grateful for the condom. It kept him from blowing early. A grunt left his lips now every time you dropped back down on him, using his cock to stroke yourself to another orgasm. Sweat cast a pretty sheen on your skin.

“I can’t,” you whined, grinding yourself on him. “I’m so close, baby. I need you.”

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, rolling over with you underneath him. He slapped his hips into yours, thrusting hard and deep in your slick cunt, and buried his face in your neck.

He would get you the rest of the way if it was the last thing he did.

You wanted to chant his name, but no sound came out. Instead, you dragged your nails down his spine and found purchase in his hips. Wooyoung didn’t slow down as he reached for your hands, pinning your arms to your sides and gloving his cock in your pussy at a desperate pace.

The weight of him on top of you sank you deeper into the mattress. He was all you could feel, taste and smell. Your bodies were damp with sweat, his and yours mixing, and a wet slap echoed through the room each time he drove inside you.

Every stroke of his cock made you more and more crazy and restless, drunk on him. “You feel so good,” you whispered, grazing your teeth over the curve of his shoulder. “You’re so deep. I want to come with you. Please. Wooyoung…”

Wooyoung let out a pained groan muffled against your neck. He couldn’t remember the last time he fucked a girl this hard. If ever. And you were eating it up, that wet pussy sucking him in and clenching when he was balls deep. Her body loves me, was all he could think.

If only your heart would follow.

Wooyoung lifted his head and, crumbling at the pleasure on your face, crashed his lips on yours, flicking his tongue in your mouth and kissing you hurriedly. You couldn’t really kiss him back - you were too busy panting - and Wooyoung inhaled every sound you made, branding them into his mind forever.

Because he knew this could be the first and last time he would get to touch you.

So, Wooyoung kept stroking you to the edge, never letting up for a second, his pace fast and his thrusts hard, perfectly rough. You bounced your hips to meet him, hooking your legs on his, your toes curling as your walls kneaded his cock.

“Come for me,” Wooyoung hissed, pinning you to the bed. “Love me.”

You met his eyes, opened your mouth to answer, and lost yourself to the force of his body, screaming his name. It was more intense than the first, making your vision blur and your ears ring.

The moment Wooyoung felt you clamp down on his cock, he swore in his mother tongue and his pace turned ragged as he started releasing into the condom, moaning endlessly through his pleasure. He worked both of you through the aftershocks, letting your walls milk every last drop out of him.

He was so fucking loud and noisy. You loved it.

With one more satisfied groan, Wooyoung collapsed beside you. Other than both of you gasping for breath, the room was eerily quiet, filling with a stiff heaviness.

Post-nut clarity. Right on time.

Wooyoung got to his feet, disposing of the condom. His legs felt boneless, wobbly even. He scratched the back of his head, thinking about how hard he came. How hard you came.

You stared blankly, still reeling. Sex with your roommate was not supposed to be that good. You were only going to fuck him to break the spell like San suggested and instead, you were drowning in just how good your body felt after he touched it.

Sex with San was fun, but not like this. Sex with Hongjoong was vicious, but not like this. Sex with Seonghwa was passionate, but not like this.

No one had ever made you feel like you did at that moment.

When you looked at Wooyoung, from his soft cock to the pretty flush on his cheeks to the bulging veins in his arms, you instinctively spread your thighs a little. You wanted him again and again. Your body was begging for it.

To your relief, Wooyoung joined you on the bed, flopping onto his back at your side, though there was an obvious tiny gap between your bodies.

“Wow,” you said, winded.

Wooyoung shot you an amused look, crooking his brow. “Surprised?”

“A little.”

He chuckled.

Once you caught your breath, you staggered into the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you were suddenly mindful that you were naked and considered covering yourself.

Had the spell been broken? Was Wooyoung done with you after he’d finally gotten what he wanted?

Love me.

You remembered Wooyoung said that. You almost missed it on the edge of your orgasm, but it hadn’t been a dream. Wooyoung had whispered, “Love me,” into your open mouth.

Leaning against the doorway, you watched Wooyoung, and it took you a moment to realize you were looking at him affectionately. Seeing he hadn’t bothered dressing, you decided not to either.

Wooyoung turned to you, feeling your attention on him, and propped his head on his hand. You could tell he was studying you as he always did, reading you like a book. “What’s wrong?”

“Are we… okay?”

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“I, um,” you hesitated, biting at your lip like you always did when you were nervous. And being vulnerable. “I’m not really used to having someone stay after.”

Wooyoung knew that. The boys got kicked out pretty quickly once you were done. He smiled softly and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

You blinked. It surprised you that everything inside you screamed for him to stay. That was a strange feeling for you, to say the least.

“I can go to my room,” he said playfully, sitting up and moving to the edge of your bed. “But if I’m being honest, I really wanna cuddle the living shit out of you right now.”

You fought a laugh, but it showed on your face. You walked over to your roommate, stood between his legs, and braced a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart underneath. You liked how it felt.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you said, “I don’t want you to go. Stay. Please.”

Wooyoung was over the moon, landing somewhere between the stars. That was what he hoped you would say more than anything. He put his hand over yours on his chest. “Did you think I’d be over you if you slept with me?”

You nodded.

Wooyoung shook his head. “Nah, baby. I’m even deeper now,” he whispered, drawing you into his arms with a mischievous grin.

You smiled, cradling his head in your hands, and kissed him.

Your roommate pulled you onto the bed, molding himself to your back and managing to drape a blanket over your naked bodies. You decided to turn over and face him, smiling when his arm tightened around your waist.

“This is nice,” Wooyoung said, leaving a sweet kiss on your brow before closing his eyes contentedly.

“Yeah.” You snuggled deeper into his warm chest and tucked your head beneath his chin. “It is.”

END.

[amethystarachnid]

APOCALYPTIC LOVE

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT & WADE WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader x Wade Wilson

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff with a tiny bit of angst and some action

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: The world went to shit after the apocalypse but you are probably one of the safest people on the planet with your two scary best friends by your side: Logan and Wade. Best friends...You're not sure what you feel for them after you kiss Logan, and then Wade too. You care deeply for both of them, do you really have to choose?

ᯓ★ TW(s): post apocalyptic so destruction, lots of violence, brief mention of cannibalism (none of the characters practices it, it's a 'joke')

ᯓ★ AU: Post Apocalyptic world

ᯓ★ Request: The way I’d eat up deadpool x fem reader x wolverine post apocalypse au is insane. Like mutants etc aside, the world just goes to shit with [apocalypse setting of choice] and for once their proclivities for violence aren’t shameful, a possible relationship turn off, etc- they protect and provide!!! idk something about Logan specifically healing from his ‘I hurt everything I touch’ mentality because in this new world his claws mean the safety and protection of the people he loves 😩 maybe they were all close friends before events of apocalypse happened and it morphs into something more since their survival as a small group depends on that impossibly heightened trust idk man 💖 ( @scarlettsoldier)

ᯓ★Turns out I had my asks turned off (I can't believe it) so now if you want to make anonymous requests you can! <3

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The sky is a sickly hue of red, a canvas of ash and blood that stretches endlessly above the desolate world. Once-crowded streets now lie cracked and broken, littered with the skeletons of old lives—burnt-out cars, shattered glass, and the occasional, all-too-frequent, human remains. You kick a small stone, watching it tumble and clatter in the silence. Silence. It’s unnerving how quiet the world has become, like someone turned the volume down on life itself. But the crackle of flames in the distance, the occasional growl of something far too close for comfort, keeps the dread alive. Keeps you alive.

“Well, if it isn’t the end of the world and we still look amazing,” Wade quips, his voice cutting through the air like it always does—reckless, loud, and defying the weight of reality. He’s walking beside you, his suit covered in a layer of grime, but his stride is confident. Unshaken.

Logan snorts from your other side, his growl more a breath than sound. “Yeah, amazing. That’s the word.” He runs a hand through his wild hair, scanning the ruined city ahead of you with sharp eyes, never stopping, never fully relaxed.

You glance between them. You’re used to their banter—dark, heavy, and always ready to bite back. You were friends long before the world crumbled, before survival became an endless nightmare. Wade’s mask, hiding the scars underneath, has become an almost comforting sight. And Logan’s claws, once more a source of fear than security, now gleam in the fractured sunlight like a promise of safety.

“You think we’ll make it to the safe house tonight?” you ask, pulling your jacket tighter around you. The nights are cold, too cold for October, and you’ve already lost too much to the chill.

Logan’s eyes flick toward you, softening just a bit. “We’ll make it. One way or another.”

Wade grins beneath his mask, probably smirking even though you can’t see it. “Oh, sweetheart, with me around, survival is practically guaranteed. And you know I can be very… motivated when it comes to keeping the three of us alive.” He spins a pistol in his hand, unnecessarily flashy. “Besides, we’ve got Logan. Nothing like a living weapon with a questionable moral compass to keep things interesting.”

Logan glares at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Shut up, Wilson.”

You catch a glimpse of Logan’s claws retracting back into his knuckles—something you’d once flinched at, but now… now it feels more like reassurance. Because while the world is full of things worse than death, you’ve got two of the deadliest men in existence walking beside you, and they’ve never failed you. Even if Wade’s jokes sometimes make you wish you could strangle him.

“We’re not dangerous anymore,” you muse aloud, more to yourself than them. “Not like we used to be.”

Wade scoffs, his mask crinkling as he looks at you. “Us? Dangerous? I mean, maybe Logan over here, but I’m a cuddly ball of sunshine wrapped in skin grafts.”

Logan shoots him a look that says everything. “What you mean is, the world got more dangerous than we ever were. Doesn’t mean we’re harmless.”

“True,” you admit. “But the things that used to scare people… those are the things that protect us now.”

Logan doesn’t answer immediately, but you see him flex his hands, as though feeling the phantom weight of those claws. “Guess you’re right,” he mutters.

You stop, turning to look at both of them fully. “I’m glad you two are with me,” you say softly. “Really.”

Wade chuckles, a rare genuine sound. “We’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re stuck with us. Forever. And lucky for you, that’s a long time.”

Logan’s eyes meet yours, steady and unflinching. “You’ve kept us sane this long. Don’t plan on leaving you to this hellhole alone.”

You smile, and for a brief moment, it feels like things could be okay—like the world isn’t a rotting corpse and you aren’t three souls wandering through the bones of what was. But it’s fleeting, because the apocalypse doesn’t allow for much peace.

A distant scream echoes, sharp and frantic, yanking you all back into reality. The world may be dead, but it isn’t empty. Something out there still hunts.

Logan’s claws snikt out, gleaming deadly in the fading light. Wade pulls out his twin katanas with a flourish.

“Showtime,” Wade grins, and then the three of you are moving. You run side by side, the sound of your breath matching the rhythm of your steps, like old times—before the world fell apart, before survival was the only goal left.

And yet, despite it all, you’re not scared. Because the monsters you run with are the ones that will keep you alive.

You sprint through the crumbling city streets, the distant scream still echoing in your ears. Logan moves ahead, a blur of raw power and purpose, while Wade stays close to your side, keeping pace like a madman with a plan. Your heart pounds in your chest, not from fear, but from the anticipation of what’s coming.

You’ve encountered other survivors before. Some are just as desperate as you—lost, broken, scavenging for whatever they can find. But others… others are predators, thriving in the chaos, more dangerous than the creatures lurking in the shadows. The kind that would kill you for your supplies, or worse.

The kind that’s hunting you now.

You round a corner, your boots skidding on loose gravel, and freeze. A group of five—no, six—survivors step out from the alleyways ahead, weapons raised. Makeshift blades, clubs, and a couple of rusted guns. Their eyes are hollow, skin pale and stretched thin from hunger, desperation clinging to them like the filth coating their clothes.

One of them, a tall guy with a buzz cut and wild eyes, points a jagged machete your way. “Drop your packs. Now.”

Wade chuckles beside you, twirling a katana lazily in his hand. “Oh, I love these moments. The awkward stand-off, the tense threats, and then… well, you’ll see.”

Logan steps forward, his gaze locked on the group, shoulders squared. His claws gleam in the fading light, long and wickedly sharp. “We’re not in the mood for this,” he growls, voice low and dangerous.

The leader’s eyes narrow, flicking between Logan and Wade before landing on you. A twisted grin spreads across his face. “She looks valuable,” he says to the others, voice like gravel. “Might be worth more than their packs.”

Wade tilts his head, his tone somehow casual and unhinged all at once. “Buddy, if you finish that sentence, I’m gonna get really creative with how I kill you.” He steps forward, spinning his katana in an almost playful manner, but the deadly intent in his movements is unmistakable. "Like… Picasso-levels of creative."

The leader sneers, raising his machete higher, but Logan’s already moving before the man can blink.

Logan’s claws flash, quicksilver arcs of death. One of the survivors lunges at him, but Logan sidesteps effortlessly, sinking his claws deep into the guy’s abdomen with a wet snikt. Blood sprays, and the man crumples without a sound, his eyes wide in shock. The others hesitate for just a second, but that’s all it takes for Logan to tear through them like they’re nothing—flesh and bone no match for adamantium claws.

Chaos erupts around you, and you feel the air crackle with the violence of the moment. Two of the survivors rush toward you, wild and frenzied. Before you can react, Wade is already there, his katanas slicing through the air with deadly precision. The first man barely has time to register the movement before his arm is severed at the elbow, a spray of blood marking Wade’s path. The second lunges at him with a rusty knife, but Wade sidesteps, twirling with a laugh before driving his blade through the man’s chest.

“Y’know, I used to hate getting my hands dirty,” Wade quips, wrenching his katana free. “But now? Now it’s like therapy.”

You’re frozen for a heartbeat, your senses overwhelmed by the brutality unfolding around you, but you don’t flinch. You’ve seen Wade and Logan like this before. They’re killers—always have been—but now, in this broken world, their violence is justified. Necessary.

Logan cuts down the last survivor in front of him, his claws slicing through the air with brutal efficiency. His chest heaves with breath, and for a moment, the primal rage in his eyes is terrifying. But when he turns to you, the anger fades, and he’s just Logan again, your Logan.

“You okay?” His voice is gruff but soft in that way it only ever is when he’s talking to you.

You nod, even though your pulse is still racing. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good, because you looked a little distracted there for a second,” Wade says, nudging one of the bodies with his boot. “Need me to give you a quick rundown on how to properly dismember someone? Always happy to teach.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. “I think I’m good, thanks.”

Wade wipes the blood off his katanas with a flourish, slipping them back into their sheaths with a dramatic sigh. “Another day, another group of cannibalistic weirdos trying to steal our stuff. I swear, it’s like a reality TV show out here.”

Logan wipes the blood from his claws, retracting them back into his knuckles with that familiar snikt sound. He’s quieter than Wade, as always, but you know he’s still on edge. Even in moments like this, where you’ve won and you’re still standing, Logan’s never fully at ease.

“Let’s keep moving,” he says, his voice low. “We’re too exposed out here.”

You agree, and the three of you start walking again, quicker now, the weight of survival hanging heavier than before. The adrenaline still courses through your veins, but beneath that, there’s something else—something that feels almost like safety. Not the kind you’d known before the world ended, but the kind that comes from knowing that the two people beside you are willing to tear the world apart to protect you.

The safe house isn’t far now, just beyond the next few blocks. But with the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows that seem to breathe and writhe in the distance, you don’t take anything for granted. Not anymore.

Logan stays ahead, leading the way, his eyes scanning every corner. Wade lingers by your side, never too far, always ready with a joke—or a blade.

You reach the edge of the block where the safe house is supposed to be, a decrepit warehouse looming ahead. It’s dark, but it’s shelter. And shelter, in this world, is as good as gold.

“Well, home sweet hellhole,” Wade mutters. “Let’s see what fresh horrors await inside.”

You glance at Logan, who’s already inspecting the entrance, his gaze sharp and calculating. He doesn’t say it, but you know he feels it too—that gnawing sense of dread that never really leaves anymore.

“Stay close,” Logan says, eyes flicking between you and Wade. “We’re not out of this yet.”

And with that, you step forward, into the dark, with your deadly companions at your side.

Inside the safe house, the air is thick with dust and the scent of decay, but it’s shelter, and that’s enough. The warehouse’s tall, cracked windows let in little light, and the building creaks ominously as the wind passes through the broken slats. You find a spot in the far corner, away from the door and any potential threats. Logan checks the perimeter, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow, while Wade busies himself by making a bed out of old crates and blankets.

“Well, this is cozy,” Wade says, plopping down on his makeshift bed, already peeling off his gloves. “If anyone tries to kill us in the middle of the night, at least we’ll die in comfort. Five-star accommodations, am I right?”

You chuckle, the tension from the earlier fight easing slightly. Wade’s irreverence, while grating at times, has always been a strange comfort. It feels like a sliver of normalcy in a world that has none. Logan remains quiet, his posture tense, as he finally settles down across from you and Wade. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than usual before he reclines against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

“We’ll take turns keeping watch,” Logan says, his voice rough but steady.

You know better than to argue. He never sleeps long, not deeply enough to truly rest. You’ve grown accustomed to that, just as you’ve grown used to the sound of his claws, the low growl in his voice, the way he always seems to be on the edge of something dangerous. But tonight, the weight of exhaustion pulls you down, and you close your eyes, trusting that between Logan and Wade, you’re safe for now.

Sleep comes quickly, but it’s not peaceful. Your dreams are fragments of the world you’ve lost, of the friends who didn’t make it, of the constant fight for survival.

Hours pass, maybe less—time blurs when you live on the edge. You wake with a start, the cold night air pressing against your skin. For a moment, you think it’s the howl of wind that’s disturbed you, but then you notice something else. Logan isn’t where he was.

You sit up quietly, glancing around. Wade’s still asleep, sprawled out in a ridiculous position, muttering something incoherent. But Logan… he’s standing by the window, bathed in the pale moonlight that streams through the broken glass. His broad shoulders are tense, his back turned to you, but it’s the way his hands are held up in front of him, claws extended, that draws your attention.

You slip out of your bedroll, feet silent on the cracked concrete as you approach him. Logan doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge you at first. His eyes are locked on his claws, the deadly, silver blades gleaming in the moonlight. For a moment, it’s like he’s not even there, like he’s lost in some internal struggle, his face shadowed in a way that makes him look even more haunted than usual.

"Logan?" you say softly, your voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet of the night.

He doesn’t answer right away. His claws glint as he flexes his hands, and you can see the tension in every inch of him. Finally, he speaks, his voice low, almost strained. “I used to hate these,” he mutters, eyes still fixed on the metal protruding from his knuckles. “Always thought they were a curse. Somethin’ that’d end up killin’ everything I touched.”

There’s a weight in his words that you hadn’t expected, a raw honesty that cuts deeper than any of his claws ever could. You’ve known Logan long enough to understand some of his pain, but this… seeing him like this, staring at his own hands like he’s still disgusted by what he’s become, makes your heart ache.

“But now…” His voice trails off, and he finally looks at you, his eyes intense, searching yours. “Now, they’re all I’ve got to protect you.”

You step closer, drawn to him, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. “Logan,” you whisper, not knowing what to say but feeling the weight of his words. “You’ve always protected me. With or without them.”

He shakes his head, his expression hardening for a second before softening again as he looks down at his claws. “I’ve killed more people than I can count. Hurt more people than I can remember. I’ve been trying to fight that part of me for so long. But now… now the only thing keeping us alive is what I hated most.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand on his, feeling the cool metal of his claws against your skin. It’s strange, but in that moment, you’re not afraid. You never have been. Not of him.

“They’re not a curse anymore,” you say quietly. “Not if they’re used to protect the people you care about.”

Logan’s breath hitches at your words, and when his eyes meet yours again, there’s something different in them. Something more than the usual hardness and regret. Something vulnerable, yet fierce. You feel the tension between you shift, a current pulling you closer, heavier than the world outside.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel the air change, thick with unsaid things that have been building for years. Your heart races as the silence stretches between you, and before you can overthink it, you lean in. Your lips brush against his in a tentative kiss, slow and soft at first, but the moment Logan responds, everything ignites.

The kiss deepens, and Logan’s hands, claws still extended, hover near your sides, careful but intense. He pulls you closer without touching you fully, as if he’s still afraid he’ll hurt you. But you press against him, letting him know that you’re not scared, that you trust him.

His lips are rough, his kiss desperate but controlled, as if he’s spent too long holding back and can’t anymore. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling the tension in his body, the restrained power that he’s always carried like a second skin. His other hand cups the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as the kiss grows more heated, more raw.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, the cold air mingling with the warmth between you. Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed, his claws slowly retracting back into his knuckles with a soft snikt.

“I…” Logan begins, but his voice cracks, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his armor—the fear of what this means, of what he’s allowed himself to feel.

But you just smile softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “It’s okay, Logan. We’ll figure it out.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s searching for some kind of reassurance, and what he finds seems to settle him. For now, at least.

Without another word, Logan pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you stay there, wrapped in his warmth, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

The warehouse is quiet again, the night’s earlier chaos now a distant memory. After your moment with Logan, sleep feels elusive. You lie awake in the dark, staring up at the cracked ceiling, your mind swirling with thoughts. Logan had gone back to his usual, silent brooding self—though something between you has undeniably shifted.

Beside you, Wade stirs. He’s not asleep, despite the rhythmic breathing you’ve been hearing. Maybe you’ve spent too much time with him, but you can always tell when he’s faking it. His chest rises and falls in exaggerated movements, like he’s mimicking sleep just to mess with you. Typical Wade.

You roll over to face him, catching his eyes already on you. The dim light barely reaches him, but you can still make out the faint glimmer in his gaze beneath the mask. He lies sprawled out on the floor, his arms behind his head, too relaxed for someone who’s always on edge. There’s a familiar playfulness to the way he’s watching you.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, but still with that teasing edge.

You smirk. “Guess not. And I’m pretty sure you weren’t sleeping either, Wade.”

“Me? Oh, no. I was totally in dreamland,” he says, his tone light as he mimics a dramatic yawn. “I was having this crazy dream where I was a billionaire playboy, and I owned a private island made of chimichangas. You know, the usual.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Of course you were."

There’s a moment of silence after that, but it’s not uncomfortable. Wade’s humor has always been a kind of shield, deflecting any real vulnerability with a joke, but you’ve learned to read between the lines. He may act like nothing ever gets to him, but you know better. The world you live in has a way of wearing down even the toughest masks, and Wade—despite his bravado—feels it all.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wade’s head tilts, and though you can’t see his face beneath the mask, you know he’s staring at you, really staring at you. His fingers tap idly on his stomach, as if weighing your words.

“Pretend? Moi? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, though his voice lacks its usual sharpness. “I’m as real as it gets, babe. What you see is what you get. Unless, of course, you want me to break into a musical number, then all bets are off.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, looking at him closely. “Wade…” you begin, and this time, his tapping stops. His whole body stills, like he’s waiting for you to say something that he’s not ready to hear, or maybe he’s been waiting too long for it.

“I see you,” you continue, your voice soft but sure. “Behind all the jokes, all the masks. I see you.”

Wade doesn’t move for a long moment, and you wonder if you’ve crossed some line, peeled back something he didn’t want to expose. But then, slowly, he sits up, turning to face you. His usual cocky demeanor is gone, replaced by something quieter, something raw.

“And what do you see?” he asks, his voice low, almost vulnerable in a way you’ve never heard from him.

You hold his gaze, knowing that beneath the mask, Wade is asking you for something more than just an answer. He’s asking you if you can handle him—all of him. The scars, the madness, the brokenness that he tries so hard to hide behind humor.

“I see someone who cares more than he lets on,” you say, your heart pounding in your chest. “Someone who acts like nothing bothers him, but who would do anything to protect the people he loves. Even if he pretends not to.”

Wade is silent for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rougher than usual, almost like it’s caught in his throat. “Well… shit.”

You can’t help but laugh, though it comes out softer than you expected. “That’s your big response?”

“What can I say?” Wade replies, his voice returning to its usual self-deprecating humor. “You go and pull on my heartstrings, and I get all emotionally constipated. Not a pretty sight.”

But there’s a warmth to his tone now, a vulnerability that lingers beneath the joke. He reaches up, tugging at the edge of his mask like he’s contemplating something. His fingers hesitate, then slowly pull the fabric up over his nose and mouth, revealing the scarred skin underneath. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him without his mask, but every time he does it, it feels like he’s giving you a piece of himself that he doesn’t share with many.

“God, I must look like an old potato that’s been left out in the sun too long,” he mutters, trying to laugh it off, but there’s something uncertain in his eyes.

You reach out, cupping his cheek gently. “You look like Wade,” you say softly.

Wade stills under your touch, his eyes widening just a little, like he’s not used to anyone touching him so tenderly. His breath hitches as your thumb brushes over one of his scars, and for the first time in a long while, Wade is speechless.

Then, without warning—without overthinking—you lean in. Your lips meet his in a kiss that’s soft, tentative at first, but Wade responds almost immediately. His hand comes up to rest on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. It’s not as desperate or raw as the one you shared with Logan, but there’s something equally intense about it. It’s Wade—his humor, his chaos, his scars—all wrapped into this one moment of quiet vulnerability.

The kiss breaks, and for a moment, the two of you just sit there, foreheads resting together, breathing each other in. Wade’s hand lingers on your waist, his thumb tracing small circles, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Wade says, though his voice is softer, almost breathless. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smile, your hand still resting on his cheek. “Neither am I.”

He chuckles, though it’s more of a nervous laugh. “So… does this mean I get to put ‘official apocalypse snuggle buddy’ on my resume? ‘Cause, you know, I’m a package deal—jokes, chimichangas, and quality cuddles.”

You laugh softly, leaning into him, letting the warmth of the moment wash over you. "Guess you'll have to prove your cuddle game is up to standard first."

Wade grins, but there’s something softer in his eyes now, something unspoken but understood. He pulls you a little closer, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Challenge accepted, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “Challenge accepted.”

The first light of dawn filters through the broken windows of the warehouse, casting long, pale beams across the dusty floor. You lie awake, staring up at the ceiling, your mind tangled in a mess of emotions that didn’t exist a day ago. The air feels heavier this morning, more charged. It’s not just the lingering exhaustion or the ever-present tension of survival—it’s the weight of what happened last night. Of what you did.

You kissed Logan.

And you kissed Wade.

And now… well, now everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something dangerous and confusing. The safe house, once just another forgotten building in the apocalypse, now feels like a pressure cooker. Every breath feels sharper, more significant, and the two men sharing this space with you… they look at you differently now.

Logan is already up, standing near the doorway, his back turned to you as he checks the barricades and watches for any signs of movement outside. He’s always the first one awake, always vigilant. His broad shoulders are tense, his posture alert as usual, but there’s something softer in the way he glanced at you earlier, a warmth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He hasn’t said anything about what happened last night by the window, but you know he’s thinking about it. He hasn’t looked away from you for long, and when his gaze does meet yours, there’s a silent promise there—something unspoken but heavy.

But then there’s Wade.

You turn your head slightly, finding him still lounging on the floor nearby, but he’s awake too. His mask is back on, but you can feel his eyes on you from behind it. Even with the fabric between you, you know he’s watching, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment, some sign that what happened between you wasn’t just a fleeting moment of insanity. His usual jokes and casual comments are there, but softer now, less of a shield. Every once in a while, you catch him looking at you differently too—like he’s holding back something real, something more than his typical irreverence.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

You have feelings for both of them, and not the fleeting, confused kind. Real, complicated feelings that have grown over time—through every fight, every desperate scramble to survive, every shared glance when you thought you might not make it through the day. With Logan, it’s deeper, older—a connection that feels like it’s been building ever since the world began to fall apart. With Wade, it’s unexpected, chaotic, but just as intense. Both of them have been there for you, in their own ways, and now you’ve crossed a line you can’t uncross.

You sit up slowly, trying to gather your thoughts, but your mind keeps looping back to the kisses. Logan’s rough, desperate kiss by the window—the way he had pulled you in like he was afraid to let go. Then Wade’s kiss, softer but just as powerful, laced with the unspoken vulnerability he rarely shows.

The guilt creeps in, though. You care about both of them, but you kissed them both, and they don’t know.

Wade shifts beside you, drawing your attention. He’s stretching his arms overhead, glancing at you with a lazy grin behind the mask. “Morning, sunshine. Sleep well, or were you up all night dreaming of little ol’ me?” His voice is teasing, but there’s an underlying warmth there that makes your heart twist.

“Or both of us,” Logan grumbles from his spot by the door, his sharp ears catching Wade’s quip. His eyes flick to you briefly before returning to the street beyond the window, but even in that quick glance, you can feel the weight of what happened between you last night.

Your stomach flips as their eyes linger on you, and suddenly, you feel exposed—like you’re carrying this secret that’s too big for the small space you’re all sharing. How are you supposed to act normal when both of them are looking at you like this? When you don’t even know what normal looks like anymore?

Wade, ever the one to break any tension, lets out an exaggerated sigh and props himself up on one elbow. “So, what’s on today’s agenda? Raiding a grocery store for canned beans? Fighting off another group of apocalypse weirdos? Or”—he leans forward, voice lowering to a mock-conspiratorial whisper—“planning our post-apocalyptic ménage à trois? I mean, no one’s judging. It’s the end of the world and all.”

Your heart skips a beat at Wade’s bluntness, and you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. Wade laughs, clearly enjoying your discomfort, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s testing the waters. Logan, on the other hand, tenses visibly, his eyes narrowing at Wade, though he says nothing. The silence that follows is heavier than it should be, stretching out uncomfortably.

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you stand up and brush the dust off your pants. “We should get moving,” you say, trying to sound casual, like your heart isn’t hammering in your chest. “We’ve stayed here too long already. It’s not safe.”

Logan grunts in agreement, pushing off from where he was standing and grabbing his jacket. He doesn’t say much, but his gaze lingers on you a little too long before he turns toward the door. Wade just watches you with that familiar grin, though you can feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you.

You’ve survived so much together—fights, hunger, loss—but this? This might be harder than any battle you’ve faced. You’re torn between two people who mean everything to you in different ways, and they don’t even know it yet.

As you gather your things and prepare to head out into the wasteland again, you can’t shake the feeling that this fragile balance won’t last long. Wade and Logan, so different yet so important to you, are bound to notice the tension eventually. And when they do, you don’t know what will happen—or how you’ll make sense of the feelings you have for both of them.

But for now, you focus on the next step. One foot in front of the other. You’ve survived the apocalypse this long—maybe you can survive this too.

Wade’s joke about the ménage à trois lingers in your mind, even though you know it was just Wade being Wade—always looking for a laugh, always ready to break the tension with something outrageous. Normally, you’d brush it off, roll your eyes and move on. But this time… something about it sticks. Maybe it’s the intensity of everything that’s happened, or the undeniable attraction you feel for both of them. Maybe it’s the strange new world you’re living in, where the old rules don’t seem to matter as much.

But whatever it is, you can’t stop your mind from wandering down that path.

Would they even be open to something like that?

The thought sends a shiver through you—part nerves, part curiosity. You know Logan, with all his brooding and tightly controlled emotions, doesn’t seem like the type to share easily. He’s possessive in his own quiet way, always watching, always protective. But Wade… Wade is unpredictable. Beneath his mask of jokes and sarcasm, there’s always been a deep well of feeling, something more complicated than anyone else gives him credit for. He’s seen more than most, lived through hell and come out the other side—scarred but still here.

And, if you’re being honest, you’ve wondered what it would be like to have them both in your life—really in your life—since last night. Logan, with his fierce protectiveness and raw intensity, and Wade, with his chaotic energy and unexpected vulnerability. The idea feels impossible, even reckless. But the way they look at you, the way both of them have made you feel… maybe it isn’t impossible.

You try to shake the thought away, but it’s like an itch you can’t scratch. In the quiet moments between gathering supplies and checking the perimeter, you catch yourself glancing at Wade, then at Logan, wondering how they see this. Could they…? Would they even consider it?

Unbeknownst to you, Wade has been thinking about something like this for longer than you’d imagine. Long before the world crumbled into chaos, he had joked about it, made those half-serious comments to hide what he was really feeling. He never thought it would actually be possible, but there was a part of him—deep down—that wanted it. That wanted you. And Logan, too, in a weird way. He’d always respected Logan, admired his strength, even if they got under each other’s skin.

Now, in the post-apocalyptic wasteland, where survival means making your own rules, Wade’s been waiting for a moment—waiting for you to realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to choose.

As the three of you move through the remains of a once-bustling city, Wade walks alongside you, his usual swagger in place. He cracks a joke about the abandoned cars you pass, something about Mad Max and your new potential career as a desert warlord, but his eyes keep flicking toward you, more serious than he lets on. Logan stays ahead, scouting silently, but even he glances back more often than usual, as if he can feel the weight of everything unsaid.

When you find a small diner that hasn’t been completely picked clean, you settle in for a rest. The windows are cracked, grime covering the once-shiny counters, but it feels safe enough for now. Logan takes first watch outside, his back to the door, as Wade plops down in one of the booths across from you.

“Ah, breakfast for champions,” Wade says, gesturing to the dented cans of food you’ve scavenged. “Can’t wait to see what culinary delight we’ve got today. Hope it’s Spam or baked beans.”

You snort, trying to ignore the tightness in your chest. “I think it’s some kind of… corn mash? I don’t even know anymore.”

“Delicious. We’ll call it ‘Corn à la Apocalypse,’” Wade says, and you can’t help but laugh. His humor always finds a way to crack through your walls, even when you don’t want it to.

But as you laugh, that thought creeps back into your mind. The joke. The impossible idea that’s been following you since this morning.

“Wade…” you start, your voice hesitant.

He looks at you, his expression still light but his eyes sharpening. “What’s up, buttercup?”

You pause, chewing on your lip for a moment, unsure if you should even bring this up. But the weight of it has been pressing on you, and maybe if you just throw it out there as a joke, like Wade does, it’ll be less terrifying.

“About what you said earlier,” you murmur, keeping your tone as casual as possible. “The, uh… ménage à trois thing. You were joking, right?”

Wade blinks, his head tilting slightly as if he’s surprised you’re even asking. “I mean, yeah, I was joking. But, you know… joking with a sprinkle of truth. Like all great comedians.” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a mock-serious whisper. “Why? Were you hoping I wasn’t?”

Your heart races at the way he says it, playful but laced with a hint of something real beneath the surface. You glance toward the door, where Logan stands on guard, unaware of this conversation. The thought of him mixed up in all this makes your pulse jump even more.

You try to laugh, but it comes out too forced. “I don’t know… maybe.”

Wade’s eyes lock onto yours, his usual playful mask slipping just a bit. He sits back, folding his arms over his chest as if he’s sizing you up. “Oh? Well, that’s interesting. You know Logan’s not exactly the ‘share your toys’ kind of guy, right?”

“I know,” you whisper, unsure what else to say. “I just… I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.”

Wade’s expression softens slightly, and for a moment, the tension lifts. He lets out a slow, exaggerated sigh, then leans forward again, resting his arms on the table.

“Look,” he says, his voice unusually gentle, “I’m not gonna lie. If this apocalypse has taught me anything, it’s that life’s too damn short for regrets. And, full disclosure, I’ve been hoping for something like this since way before the world went all zombie movie on us.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

Wade shrugs, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “What can I say? I’m a man of… complex tastes. But it’s not just a joke to me, sweetheart. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all about the jokes, but if you’re asking whether I’d be open to it—us—then yeah, I’m game. I’ve been game. But you… you’ve got to be honest with yourself. If you’re into me and Logan, that’s not exactly something we can pretend isn’t happening.”

Your mind reels. You hadn’t expected this kind of openness from Wade, though you should have known better. Beneath all his chaos, Wade is probably the most straightforward person you’ve ever known. He doesn’t hide who he is, not really.

But now… now you have to figure out if you’re ready to be that honest. To admit that you have feelings for both Logan and Wade, and to figure out what the hell that means.

Wade watches you carefully, his playful demeanor tempered by something more serious. “It’s not like we have to figure this all out right now,” he says, his voice soft. “But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we can’t let the world tell us how to live. Not anymore.”

Your chest tightens, and as you sit there, staring into Wade’s eyes, you realize he’s right. You don’t have to figure it out right now. But sooner or later, you’ll have to face the truth: you want them both.

And somehow, that doesn’t feel as impossible as it once did.

The weight of everything Wade just said hangs in the air between you. His usual sarcastic, playful attitude is gone, replaced by something raw and honest—something that feels entirely real. Your pulse pounds in your ears as you sit there, processing the fact that Wade has been hoping for this, for you, for you and Logan, since long before the world turned upside down. And now… now you realize you want it too.

You’ve spent so long trying to ignore your feelings, pretending they didn’t exist. But it’s time to stop running from them. The truth is undeniable: you want both Wade and Logan in your life. Not one or the other. Both of them, in ways that shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. They’ve both been with you through the worst, through every fight, every moment of fear and desperation, and you can’t imagine facing this world without either of them.

Wade leans back in his chair, watching you with a mix of curiosity and patience. He’s waiting for you to say something, to give him a sign that you’re on the same page.

“I think…” you begin, your voice quieter than you expect. “I think I want this. I want both of you in my life, and I don’t want to have to choose.” You swallow hard, your gaze flicking to the door where Logan stands on watch. “But Logan… he doesn’t know. He has no idea.”

Wade smirks, though it’s softer than usual. “Yeah, well, I figured that much. He’s not exactly the ‘let’s talk about our feelings’ type.” He tilts his head, eyes thoughtful behind the mask. “But he cares about you. He’d tear apart this entire wasteland if it meant keeping you safe. I think that’s something we can work with.”

You nod, your throat tightening. The thought of Logan’s reaction—of how complicated this will be—makes your stomach churn. But Wade is right. Logan cares about you, and you care about him. If anyone can understand the messy, chaotic nature of love in a world like this, it’s the three of you. Survival has forced you to redefine everything, to make new rules in a world where the old ones don’t fit anymore.

“We’ll have to talk to him,” you say, your voice steadier now. “As soon as we find another safe place, we’ll tell him. I don’t want to keep this a secret from him.”

Wade nods, surprisingly serious. “Yeah. We’ll talk to him. And I’ll try not to make too many jokes during the whole ‘hey, we both want to be with you’ conversation. Promise.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, despite the tension. “Good luck with that.”

“Hey, I’m capable of being a little serious.” Wade stands, stretching his arms over his head and casting a glance toward Logan outside. “Well, maybe not too serious. But I’ll behave. Mostly.”

You smile, but there’s still that nervous flutter in your chest. It feels surreal, the idea of sitting down with Logan and Wade and having this conversation. But as terrifying as it is, you know it’s the right thing to do. You owe it to both of them to be honest, to let them know how you feel.

Wade catches your eye again, something softer in his gaze now. “Hey,” he says, his voice low. “No matter what happens, we’ll figure this out. We always do. And for the record, I’m glad you want this. I’ve been waiting a long time.”

His words warm you in a way you didn’t expect, and you realize that, despite all the chaos and fear, there’s a strange sense of peace in knowing where you stand with Wade. That he’s been waiting, hoping, for this moment. That he’s willing to face whatever comes next with you.

You take a deep breath, standing up and stretching the tension from your shoulders. “I guess we’ll see how Logan takes it.”

Wade chuckles softly. “Yeah. Should be fun.” But there’s no malice in his tone—just a shared understanding that this conversation won’t be easy, but it’s necessary.

As the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting the remains of the city in a golden haze, you and Wade gather your supplies, mentally preparing for the road ahead. You’ll have to move again soon, find another place to hole up for the night—somewhere safer, more secure than this crumbling diner.

Logan steps back inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on you. “Time to move,” he says gruffly, though there’s a flicker of something in his gaze when he looks at you—a softening, maybe, from what happened last night.

You nod, your heart beating faster as you stand beside Wade, feeling the weight of what’s about to come. You’ll tell him soon. You’ll lay everything on the table, and you’ll deal with whatever comes after. Logan deserves to know the truth.

As the three of you head out into the wasteland, the tension between you is palpable, but different now—less about survival, more about the unresolved feelings hanging in the air. Wade walks beside you, occasionally tossing out sarcastic comments to break the silence, while Logan keeps his usual steady pace ahead, unaware of the conversation waiting for him.

It’s only a matter of time before you find another refuge—another place where you can stop running for just a moment and finally have the conversation that’s been building since last night.

And when you do, you’ll be ready to face whatever comes next, knowing that no matter what happens, you won’t have to choose between them.

Because in this broken world, maybe there’s room for something unexpected. Something messy, but real.

The sky darkens as the three of you push further into the wasteland, navigating through the crumbled remains of a city that was once alive. You move in silence, each step taking you closer to the inevitable conversation that weighs heavily on your mind. Wade walks beside you, his usual swagger muted but present, while Logan leads the way ahead, his posture tense and alert, as always.

After a few hours of walking, you find a relatively safe building—an old, abandoned warehouse with heavy metal doors still intact. It’s not perfect, but it’s shelter for the night, and that’s all you need. Logan pushes the door open, motioning for you and Wade to head inside before sealing it behind you.

Once inside, the air is thick with the quiet hum of anticipation. You glance at Wade, who gives you a reassuring nod. It’s time. You know that. It’s just… how do you even begin?

Logan drops his pack on the floor, his muscles visibly relaxing for the first time today. “We’ll stay here for the night,” he says, his voice gruff as he checks the windows. “Move again in the morning.”

You take a deep breath, stepping closer to him, your heart hammering in your chest. “Logan, we need to talk.”

He turns to face you, his brow furrowed. “About what?”

Wade moves in beside you, leaning against a wall casually, though his eyes are more serious than usual. “It’s kind of a big talk, actually,” he says, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Like, ‘world’s going to end again if we don’t handle this’ big. But no pressure.”

Logan’s frown deepens, clearly sensing something unusual in the air. “Spit it out.”

You swallow hard, glancing between the two of them. “It’s about… us. All of us.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens as he looks at you, then flicks to Wade. His arms cross over his chest, a defensive stance you’ve seen him take a thousand times before. “What about us?”

Wade clears his throat, stepping forward with his hands up like he’s trying to calm an angry animal. “Alright, listen, bub. Here’s the deal. Our dear Y/N here”—he gestures toward you—“has been doing a lot of thinking. Like, a lot. And what she’s realized is that she doesn’t want to pick between us. She’s into both of us, and she kinda, sorta… wants us both in her life.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly, the expression unreadable. His gaze flickers between you and Wade, his jaw clenching as if he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke. But then his eyes settle on you, and there’s that softness again—mixed with confusion. “You want… both of us?”

You nod, your voice coming out softer than you expected. “I do. I care about you, Logan. I care about Wade, too. And I know it’s not exactly… normal. But nothing about this world is normal anymore. I don’t want to choose between you two, and I don’t think I should have to.”

Logan’s face is unreadable for a moment. You watch as he processes, his shoulders tense, and you brace yourself for the worst. Wade, however, just stands there, his usual carefree attitude tempered by a quiet patience. He knows this won’t be easy for Logan, but he also knows it’s the only way forward.

After what feels like an eternity, Logan lets out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “So, what? You want me and Wade to share? That it?”

Wade can’t help himself. “Look, it’s not so much ‘sharing’ as it is ‘teamwork,’ Logan. And I know you’re more of the lone wolf type, but come on—we’re in the apocalypse here. Gotta adapt.”

Logan shoots him a sharp look, but it’s not as biting as it could be. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the idea, his eyes narrowing as he turns back to you. “You’re serious about this?”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, and nod. “I am.”

For a long moment, Logan just stands there, staring at you like he’s searching for some kind of answer in your eyes. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eases. His expression softens, just a little, and he lets out a low grunt, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, shit,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I can’t say I saw this coming. But…” He looks at you again, his voice quieter. “If this is what you want, I’m not gonna stand in the way.”

Relief floods through you, the weight lifting off your chest. You can’t believe it, but Logan—gruff, guarded Logan—is actually willing to give this a chance.

Wade, of course, wastes no time in breaking the tension. “See? I knew the big guy had a soft spot for us. Now, don’t worry, Logan, I promise not to steal all your clothes in the middle of the night. Well, not unless you ask nicely.”

Logan glares at him, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if even he can’t help but be amused. “Keep talking, Wade, and I’ll find a new use for those claws of mine.”

Wade puts his hands up in mock surrender, laughing. “Hey, no need for threats! We’re a team now, remember? A very sexy, very complicated team.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension in the room finally breaking. Wade’s inappropriate jokes are his way of lightening the mood, but underneath it all, you can tell he’s just as relieved as you are. Logan might still be wrapping his head around the idea, but he’s in. You know it, and so does Wade.

Wade grins, throwing an arm around both of you, clearly enjoying the moment. “Well, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, what do you say we celebrate this beautiful union with some canned beans and a group cuddle? Or—wait for it—a ménage à trois?”

Logan rolls his eyes, but there’s a softness in his gruff exterior that wasn’t there before. “You’re pushing your luck, Wilson.”

Wade winks at you, leaning in with his usual flair. “Oh, trust me, I haven’t even started yet.”

first time writing this type of relationship thing, and I hope I did good lol.

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